World Tree Book I Harry Potter and the Past Lives
by dark dhampir
Summary: Harry begins to have dreams about the lives of men he's never heard of, but are they really just dreams? First in an epic series of adventure and magic. HarryxHarem. Borrows from Conan the Cimmerian and the Wheel of Time. First in the World Tree Series!
1. Chapter 1: The First Dream

**Disclaimer: **I only own this, and I am not going to sell it for money.

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**The Smallest Bedroom in Number 4 Privet Drive, Surrey, England, Earth 1; July 31, 1995; Midnight**

Harry Potter was used to bad dreams, not totally immune to them, mind you . . . but used to them. For about as long as he could remember, he had had the occasional nightmare about . . . let's see . . . death, turning evil, losing his parents, getting beaten up by his cousin and abused by his family . . . girls . . . typical child-adolescent stuff.

Last year, he had even had a dream about the doings of his arch-enemy, Lord Voldemort (a.k.a. Tom Marvolo Riddle).

But now, he was having a dream that he'd never had before, but it didn't feel like a dream. It felt like a memory.

_{He was walking down a hallway in what was pretty obviously an important building. The walls were polished marble; there were Greek-style columns; and the walls were decorated with beautiful paintings and jeweled mirrors. Harry didn't know why he was walking down that hallway, although he would have liked to. He also would have liked to be able to slow down or at least turn his head so he could take a better look at his surroundings. But his body was not under his control. He was aware of it-of every step it took and the smile that his face wore-but he had no way of controlling what it did._

_Harry approached a door at the end of the palace. Outside stood two guards wearing Roman-looking armor and armed with long swords and polished shields. Harry paused in front of the guards, thus giving him a chance to finally see his own reflection in their shields. At least, he assumed it was him. The person whose eyes he was looking through was not a scrawny boy with glasses, oversized clothes, and messy hair. Instead, the young wizard was a well-fed-looking young man with long robes that had phoenixes sown on it and seemed tailored to fit and . . . well, his hair was still messy. And his face was older, but like a mature version of his own._

_But he had only an instant to examine himself before he felt his mouth moving-heard a voice that was like his. "I request an audience with the king."_

_One of the guards nodded and entered the room, "Priest Harren Pottris wishes to see you, Your Majesty."_

_From inside the room, a gruff voice called, "let him in."_

_Harry felt his mouth smile before his legs took him into the room. His first thought upon seeing the room was _Hermione would love this place. _He was obviously in a library, and an amazing one at that. The walls were covered in books, more even than the Hogwarts Library. Huge windows let in light and revealed a twilight sky. From the ceiling, there stood intricately carved statues and there hung large, purple tapestries. And at an ivory writing table, sat the man Harry-Harren Pottris-had come to see._

_Harry decided promptly that the man before him was the least kingly-looking individual he had ever seen; he looked more like Hagrid's cousin. Even sitting down, Harry could see that he was unusually tall, taller than the guards outside, and dressed in fine robes that did nothing to hide his impressive muscles. His skin was deeply tanned from years outdoors, and he had a mane of black hair streaked with grey that was held out of his face by a gold band. The man turned to face him, and Harry saw a scared, square, but handsome face with intelligent, blue eyes._

"_It is good to see you again, King Conan," Harry heard his mouth say._

"_By Crom, it's good to be back!" the man said with a laugh and rose to greet him. "Even without Thoth-ammon's curses, Stygia is not a land to be taken lightly." The older man clapped a hand on the younger's back._

"_I heard the wizard snuck away before you had arrived," Harren noted. "I cannot understand it; he drives the king to attack our borders, then disappears when you come to punish them for it. What sort of man is he?_

"_If you had traveled the world as I did at your age," remarked Conan as he led his friend to the desk where a pair of goblets and a bottle of wine were waiting for them, along with several sheets of parchment, an ink pot, and a pen that looked like it had never been a feather._

"_Writing your memoir's my friend?"_

"_Memoirs are for men who are too old to do anything worth writing anymore," Conan declared. "My adventures are not through yet."_

"_So you are not _too _old, yet, good king," Harren said lightly. Then, he frowned. "I suppose slithering off like a snake is all one should expect from a devotee of Set . . ."_

"_Funny that a man gifted with the speech of snakes should be so ardent an enemy of the Old Serpent," Conan remarked, taking a large drink of wine._

"_Not all snakes are evil," Harren remarked, "as you, the champion of the Cult of Asura, should know. But my gift comes from Mitra, not Set, and it is Mitra I am priest to, not that demon of the South!" Harry noticed as soon as his . . . vessel was finished speaking, that the man was trembling._

_Conan showed no awareness that he had caused or seen the distress of his companion, except to pour him a generous helping of wine, which Harren took a small sip from._

_They sat in silence for a few moments before Harren spoke again. "If it's not memoirs your writing, Conan, what are you recording?"_

"_Notes," the king grunted. "I'll never be old enough to write my memoirs, but, by Crom, I'll see that my biographer does things right!"_

"_What are you working on now, then: recording the gold, wine, and slaves you brought back from your victory?"_

"_I wouldn't need this much paper if that were the case. Stygia's fallen on hard times of late, probably because of that wizard's meddling; I was reluctant to loot them. Besides, this campaign was about protecting our borders, not acquiring spoils."_

"_Spoils are a part of war," Harren remarked casually. "Even Aquilonia, the brightest shining of the civilized nations, cannot resist their allure."_

"_We took some drink and reparations," Conan remarked. "None of my generals was eager for a Stygian slave, and neither am I!" he added with a shake of his head._

"_I always thought Stygian women were as beautiful as their Hyborean cousins," Harren remarked with a sly grin._

_Conan laughed. "As only you and I would, my friend! But, I don't think Zenobia would take kindly to my adding another girl to my seraglio; she's none t_

_oo fond of the number I currently have."_

_Harry felt Harren shake his head. "Yet she allows you to enjoy them anyway? Your queen and my wife . . . How is it that we have been blessed with the love of such women?" _

"_You're the priest," Conan remarked. "You tell me."}_

After that, Harry awoke in his bed with one thought surging through his mind; _What was that about?_

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EXPLANATIONS! Okay, if you're unfamiliar with the Conan methos (as written by Robert E. Howard) I recomend you A) do some research online (Wikipedia's got some pretty good information on the subject) or B) sit back and wait a for Harry to learn on his own. If you choose to go the Wikipedia route, look up Kull a part of Conan's world, and I expect to use things from their stories as well. the Conqueror and Bran Mak Morn, too; they're a part of Conan's world, and I expect to use things from their stories as well.

This isn't a crossover, I'm just borrowing some of Howard's world. Later on I expect to use things from the Wheel of Time and maybe Michael Moorcock's stories as well.

You're probably guessing what "Earth 1" signifies. There'll be an explanation for that on my author's page. All I'll say here is: I intend to make it epic.


	2. Chapter 2: It Continues

Okay, this took longer than I thought, but its longer than the last chapter, and there's more going on, so, hopefully that makes up for the wait.

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**The Spare Bedroom in Number 12. Grimauld Place; London, England; Earth 1; August 31, 1995; 8:00 p.m.**

Harry was sitting alone in his room. Well, it was only a spare room in his godfather's house, but, it was his for the moment.

Downstairs, everyone else was trying to enjoy their last few moments of summer holiday, but Harry had returned to his room saying he didn't feel well. . .

Didn't feel well . . . that was an understatement. At the moment, he was contemplating how he could spend the rest of his life without sleep. Maybe if he asked Hermione . . . she'd know. . . but she'd never tell him, of course. It would be too unhealthy.

Harry put his head in his hands, grinding his teeth in frustration. If only he had someone to talk to! But, Dumbledore, for the first time that Harry could remember, wasn't there to provide him with guidance. Aside from getting him acquitted in the trial, the headmaster had had no contact with Harry at all. Not that he ever spent a great deal of time on him, but the young wizard had never needed the elderlyu wizard as much as he did now.

Sirius was his godfather and Lupin was the teacher he was closest to . . . but they had work to do for the Order. Well, Lupin did, but Sirius and Harry were still building their relationship. Having spent fourteen years with an abusive uncle, Harry had no idea how to have a positive relationship with a paternal figure.

That nixed Mr. Weasley from the list as well, and Mrs. Weasley . . . The people Harry really needed to talk to were his friends, but how could he expect the understand that he was-

"Harry," a soft voice said from the doorway.

Harry turned and saw Hermione, standing with the door partly opened, partly across the threshold, ringed by the soft lamplight. He swallowed, unable to speak.

Hermione stood there; for a moment, she didn't say anything. She just looked at him: looked at him, looked, looked away, then looked back again before she was able to speak.

"Harry, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing," Harry said, averting his gaze. "I don't feel well, that's all, Hermione; go back to the others."

". . . Harry, how long have we known each other?"

The question caused Harry to face her again. "Four years . . . Hermione, you know that, why . . ."

"It means I know when you're lying," she said walking forward now, "when you're trying to shut people, to stop us from worrying about you." She was standing in front of him now. The young witch sat down next to him on the bed and put an arm around his shoulders.

"I'm your friend, Harry. You can talk to me; that's what friends do, what friends are for . . . I'll help, I promise."

Harry smiled a little. Wasn't that just like Hermione: so caring and so very determined. It wasn't "I'll _try _to help;" she _would _help him. It was a promise, a gentle but sincere promise. He decided to tell her everything.

Er . . . almost everything.

"It started on the night before my birthday. I had a strange dream . . ." Harry lost himself, trying to figure out how to explain the dream, how it had felt like an actual experience instead of a dream.

"Like the one you had last year, about Voldemort killing a Muggle?" Hermione offered.

"Kind of," Harry said, "but this one wasn't about Voldemort, and nobody died . . . at least, I didn't see anyone die."

"Maybe you should tell it to me," Hermione suggested.

"All right," Harry agreed, taking a deep breath. "I'm walking down a hallway . . ."

Harry reiterated his dream, quoting every word said between Harren the priest and Conan the king.

Hermione listened to the entire episode, not speaking a word until he had recounted how he had woken up. Then, she said only one thing. "Have you had . . . any other dreams like this one, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "Every night since my birthday, even after I got the letters saying the Ministry was going to put me on trial. Actually, I was kind of grateful for that one; it was nicer than dreaming about my wand getting snapped . . ."

_{Harry dreamed of Hermione; that was his first thought. Then he realized the woman standing in front of him was older than his friend, though not by much. _Then,_ he noticed the stone walls of the room in which they stood. Then . . . then he saw the clothes she was wearing: a feminine version of the robes which Harren Pottris wore when he visited Conan. Which meant that Harry . . ._

"_Hermonia," Harren addressed the woman before him, "are you sure about this?"_

_His companion nodded. "Yes, my love. This is the right course of action. Though I am loathe to admit it, you _must _take them as your concubines. If you do not, they could be killed or sold to someone less . . . compassionate than you . . . And it will probably cause an international incident."_

_Harry could feel his vessel's slight frown and heard his sigh, just as he did when Hermione had just convinced him how wrong he was about something. _

_These dreams were becoming uncomfortably realistic._

"_You're right" Harren admitted, "as usual." Harry felt his vessel smirk as he spoke. Then felt his own blush as the priest wrapped his arms around Hermonia and kissed her . . . passionately._

I wonder if this qualifies as my first kiss, _Harry thought. If so, he wasn't particularly disappointed. It was weird, obviously, feeling "his" lips moving against someone else's and know they weren't really his lips and the woman being kissed didn't actually know he was there . . . but, still very nice. The hug felt nice, too . . . and distracting._

_When Harren removed his lips from the woman's, although they continued to hold each other, Harry was not surprised when he said "I love you, Hermonia."_

"_I love you, too, Harren . . . but tonight . . . I must let you go." She didn't._

"_I don't deserve you," Harren said._

"_I don't see why . . . You're a better man than you give yourself credit for, my love."_

"_Maybe someday you'll convince me," Harren replied, smiling. Then, sobering, he said. "Regardless of the twins-and anyone else in the future-always remember this: _you_ are my wife. You will always be first in my heart."_

_Tears welled up in Hermonia's eyes. "Thank you, Harren, my beloved." She kiissed him, again, chastly. Finally, the beautiful woman let go of him, turned, and began to walk away. Harren sighed, then turned around. Harry saw him facing a door._

"_Harren," Hermiona, called from behind him . . . them . . . or something._

"_Yes," he responded, turning around._

_Hermiona was only partly turned around. She seemed to be struggling to say something. "Please try to love them . . . just a little. I spoke with Luna . . . This can only work if we all care for each other."_

"_I'll try," Harren responded, and Harry felt his vessel's insides churning. Satisfied, the woman-Hermonia Pottris?-turned and walked away._

_The man turned back to the door. "I'll try," he said again. He looked up to the ceiling. "Mitra help me . . . help us all," he breathed, and Harry knew the prayer was true. It would have been if he had prayed it._

_Harren opened the door. The next room was mostly unremarkable: a decent-sized bed, a couple of small tables, a couple of chests for clothes shoved against the walls. Then again, maybe Harry just wasn't paying enough attention, because his gaze was fixed on what was right in front of him. There were two young women there. They had been sitting on the edge of the bed until Harren opened the door, then they got up and stood before him. They were dressed in clothes that definitely screamed "concubine," tops that showed a lot of cleavage and didn't cover their middles, skirts that stopped inches before their knees, and lots of jewelry. Though the clothes were, well, skanky, the women themselves seemed less so. They seemed to have trouble looking him in the eye-mostly looking at the floor or the walls around him. They were also holding each other's hands. It was obvious they were sisters. They both had the same dark skin and hair, and they looked almost exactly alike. More like twins than fraternal sisters, actually. In fact, they looked just like the Patil twins.}_

Harry left out the fact that Hermonia looked just like her, but told everything else.

"That was only the second dream; I've been having one every night, and each one's new and different. I don't know what it means or why it's happening, but it feels important." He sighed, "And, it's made sleeping difficult for me, too."

Harry looked down at his feet, aware that Hermione was looking at him. "Harry," she said, "What did you leave out?"

Harry jerked his head up. "How-What makes you think I left something out?"

Hermione smiled softly, and chose not to comment on his obvious confession. "Harry, you never look me in the eye when you're trying to avoid telling me something."

Harry's face warmed up, but he smiled. "Well, yeah. Um . . . you see . . . the thing is . . . ah . . . Hermonia . . ."

"What about her?"

"She, ah, well, she . . ." How do you tell your best friend that you dreamed you were married to her, that she told you to make two other girls you know your personal sex slaves, to love them, and kissed you?

"She looked like me, right?" Hermione asked.

Harry just stared at her. Hermione was blushing a little. He felt his own face get twice as hot, while something in the back of his mind was looking at the way she chewed her lips and wondering if kissing her would be as good as it was in his dreams . . .

_What? NO! Bad Harry! She's your best friend!_

"Well, you said that you and this priest, Harren, looked exactly alike-"

"Not exactly," Harry cut off. "He's older and doesn't have a scar."

"Not exactly, but close enough that he could be an older brother, or even yourself in the future. Also, you said these twin girls looked like the Patils. Hermonia's name is almost the same as mine; I just thought, maybe she was your dreams' incarnation of me."

"Right," Harry responded. "Good thinking."

They sat in silence for a moment, before Hermione said "You should talk to Sirius about this."

"How?" Harry asked. "He'll think it's nothing, or that I'm going crazy."

"No, he won't, Harry," Hermoine said, squeezing his hand. "He'd never do that."

Harry didn't say anthing, but he must have not looked any more convinced than he felt, because she added. "We won't talk about it now, but, tomarrow, if we can, let's talk about this some more, maybe look at your other dreams. Are they all about Harren?"

Harry shook his head. "No, two others have popped up."

Hermione nodded. "All right, then. If you think you can handle another night . . ."

"I can," Harry replied, grateful that she wasn't going to ask about his other dreams at the moment. "Good night, Hermione, and thank you."

"Any time, Harry, any time." Hermione got up and turned, but then stopped. Then, she turned around again, bent over, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

It was nice-nothing like what Harren and Hermonia had shared-but it still made him dizzy, and warm, and . . . and he didn't know what.

"Sweet dreams, Harry," she said, and then left. Was it a trick of the light, or was she blushing again? And was she walking just a little faster that usual?

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Robert E. Howard never said whether or not the priests of Mitra could marry or not or own concubines. I don't think so, but this is my story, so I'll take advantage of the lack of details in Hyborean canon. Anyway, the kings and nobles had slave girls, so it's not that big a stretch.


	3. Chapter 3: The Dream Becomes Real

I'm sorry. I honestly intended to get this up a week ago, but life got in the way, along with my own laziness. I hope the length makes up for the fact all this stuff took so long ot come out.

P.S. If you happen to see a number like this**(0) **then that means there's a footnote for it at the bottom of the page.

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**The Great Hall; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 9, 1995; 9:00 a.m.**

Just as the clock struck nine a flurry of owls flew into the Great Hall dropping or delivering letters and packages and occasionally stealing a piece of bacon. Harry wondered, not for the first time in five years why it worked that way. Did the school have some kind of charm to prevent the owls from entering before nine o'clock? Maybe it was to keep the owls from coming and going throught the day and being a constant distraction.

Whatever the reason, the owls came, which meant he got to see Hedwig. The snowy owl usually had nothing to deliver, but she would still nip his ear affectionately and let him stroke her feathers. Today, however, was different.

"Lookout! Hermione ordered a new book!" Seamus Finnagin yelled, pointing at something.

"I did not!" Hermione cried as she turned to look at what Seamus was pointing at. Harry turned too, and, honestly, understood how Seamus could have made the mistake.

Hedwig was carrying what looked to be a large dictionary wrapped in brown paper in her talons. Either someone had put a charm on the parcel to lighten it, or his owl was stronger than he thought.

She brought the book down in front of him. Harry quickly gave her two pieces of bacon, which the owl happily dug into.

The young wizard examined the package in front of him. It definitely felt like a book, and definitely had no charm on it; the thing weighed at least a full seven pounds. He spared a glance at Hedwig, who looked rather smug.

"Why'd you order a book, Harry?" Ron asked, looking mildly nauseous.

"I didn't," Harry answered. He looked at the letter attached to the package. It was in Remus Lupin's handwriting.

_Dear Harry, _it read, _Sirius told me to give this to you. He wouldn't say why, except that you'd find it "handy" somehow. It's rightfully yours anyway, so I won't pry. I hope you'll enjoy just as much as we did._

_Moony_

_P.S._

_Sirius requested that I mark one chapter in particular where you should start. It's one of the best anyway._

Harry smiled at the letter, not only because of what it said, but because Sirius hadn't broken his promise.

**King's Cross; London, England; Earth 1; September 1, 1995; 10:30 a.m.**

Shortly before it was time to board, the train, Harry was tugged by his godfather (who was in dog form, of course) into a small sitting area to say a private goodbye. At least, that's what he told everyone was what it was about.

As soon as they were alone, Sirius morphed back into his human form.

Harry took a quick looked around. "Are you sure this is safe Sirius?"

The most wanted man in the United Kingdom smile. "Don't worry, Harry, no one can see me. Listen, you said you wanted to talk to me about something before we left. Well, this is our last chance before Holidays ; so, what's the problem?"

Harry squirmed a little. "Well, Sirius, remember how I had a vision from Voldemort's mind last year?"

Sirius frowned. "It's happening again?"

Harry shook his head. "No, but it feels like that, like I'm looking through someone else's eyes."

"What have these dreams been about?" Sirius asked.

"People and places I've never heard of," Harry answered. "With names like Harren and Hermonia and Stygia and Conan." Sirius drew a sharp breath. "What is it?" Harry asked.

"Conan and Stygia . . ." Sirius looked at Harry peculiarly. "You're certain you've never heard those names before, Harry? Absolutely certain?"

"Yes . . . I'm pretty sure I would remember them if I had heard them before."

Sirius frowned. "No, you couldn't have . . . The Weasley's wouldn't know, I don't think, and Remus still has the book." He seemed to be talking to himself now. "Harry, have you told anyone else about these dreams?"

"Just Hermione," he answered.

Sirius nodded. "That was probably smart, but don't mention them to anyone else, if you can, all right?"

"All right, Sirius," Harry answered.

"Not even Dumbledore," Sirius added sharply.

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Sirius-"

"Just promise me you won't say anything, Harry," Sirius insisted.

". . . All right." Sirius nodded.

"Good. There's a book that might be able to help you. It was your father's, but he gave it to Remus for safe keeping before he and your mother went into hiding."

"What was it?" Harry asked.

"A book of our world's oldest legends," Sirius answered. "At least, we always thought so. Now, I'm not so sure . . ." He was silent for a few moments. "There isn't enough time to explain. Listen, I'll ask Remus to send you the book; it's yours now anyway so he won't think much of it."

Harry looked at Sirius strangely. "You're not telling Professor Lupin?"

Sirius shook his head. "Until we can figure out what this is, I think the fewer who know, the better."

**The Present**

"It's from Professor Lupin," he said, as he began ripping the paper off. "He says it was my Dad's." The book was old, so old its pages were yellowed and stiff. In faded gold letters, it read, _An Account of the Second Age, Known as the Hyborian _At the bottom of the cover was the author's name, Robert E. Howard. Unable to stop himself, Harry opened it to the page that had a large bookmark in it. He dropped it on the table.

_Chapter XXI: Conan, the Conqueror__**(1)**_

"_Know, oh prince, that between the years when the oceans drank Atlantis and the gleaming cities, and the years of the rise of the Sons of Aryas, there was an Age undreamed of, when shining kingdoms lay spread across the world like blue mantles beneath the stars – Nemedia, Ophir, Brythunia, Hyperborea, Zamora with its dark-haired women and towers of spider-haunted mystery, Zingara with its chivalry, Koth that bordered on the pastoral lands of Shem, __**Stygia **__with its shadow-guarded tombs, Hyrkania whose riders wore steel and silk and gold. But the proudest kingdom of the world was __**Aquilonia,**__ reigning supreme in the dreaming west. Hither came __**Conan,**__ the Cimmerian, black-haired, sullen-eyed, sword in hand, a thief, a reaver, a slayer, with gigantic melancholies and gigantic mirth, to tread the jeweled thrones of the Earth under his sandalled feet."_

– _The Nemedian Chronicles.__**(2)**_

Harry slammed the book shut. He should have realized, when Sirius mentioned the book that the names would be there, but to actually see them, to know that what he dreamed of was real history, history that stretched beyond his own ideas of history-he knew enough of the legend of Atlantis to know that it supposedly sank in ancient times-that was . . .

"Harry," Hermione asked, "are you all right?"

"Yeah," he said, taking the book off the table. "I just realized now isn't the time to look a t it."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Is there ever a good time to look at a book?" Hermione scowled at him and he wisely chose to focus on his meal.

**The Potions' Dungeon; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 9, 1995; 4:35 a.m.**

A day that ends with Double Potions is not a pleasant day to begin with. It gets worse when you know you have a detention after dinner. Harry knew he shouldn't have mouthed off in Defense, but Fudge's ignore-it-and-it-will-go-away strategy was going to get people killed. The bowler wearing fool was so obsessed with his position that he . . .

Harry turned his frustration into energy, viciously hacking up his wolfsbane. This, in turn caused drops of its deadly juice to fly across the cutting board.**(3)**

"Watch it, Potter," his partner said, surprisingly without anger. "We still have plenty of time; there's no need to poison yourself."

Harry blushed, turning to his partner. She was a blond girl with porcelain-like skin, violet eyes, and a delicate nose. One perfectly groomed eyebrow was arched in his direction, and her mouth was smirking slightly.

"Sorry, Daphne," he muttered. "Just got a lot on my mind."

The blonde's smirk widened just a little more, and Harry felt his face get hotter. "That's not a very good practice when handling a knife, especially when you're using it to slice up a deadly herb."

Harry looked down at his hands. She raised a good point; the large, silver knife he used to cut up various potion materials could hack through just about anything by his reckoning, and though he wore protective gloves . . .

"That's . . . good advice," he admitted.

Now both of Daphne's eyebrows went up, and her perfect teeth flashed as she laughed quietly. "Wow, a Gryffindor admitting a Slytherin's right about something, maybe I should call the _Prophet!"_

Harry frowned, thinking about Fudge's smear campaign against him. "I bet they'd come running."

Daphne's smirk fell a little. "They would. Sorry, Potter."

Harry raised his eyebrows at her, causing the girl to frown a little. "Yes, I know, a Slytherin just apologized to a Gryffindor; _that's_ something to call the _Prophet _about."

Harry frowned. "Well, it is when a Slytherin apologizes to _me."_

Daphne frowned, turning her head slightly to scan the room. "Don't spread this around, Potter, but you actually have some fans in Slytheirn."

Harry didn't know what to say; fortunately, he didn't have to say anything.

"Back to work, Potter; you can flirt when your potion is on my desk."

Harry blushed and whipped his head to the far side of the room. Snape wasn't even looking in his direction. Because, he turned his head so fast, however, he never say Daphne lower her head, too. If he had, he would have seen her cheeks turn a faint pink, too.

**The Gryffindor Commonroom; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 9, 1995; 11:20 p.m.**

Harry finally stumbled into the Commonroom; after the pink toad's so-called "detention," the walk back seemed twice as long. He was being very careful to hold his right hand straight down and not letting it touch anything.

"Hey, mate," Ron yawned. It looked like he had tried to do his homework. It also looked like he hadn't gotten much done.

"Hey, Ron," Harry answered. "Hey, Hermi-"

"Why are you bleeding, Harry?" the witch in question asked, making him jump, slightly. She had been sitting in a chair by the fire when he had walked in. _Damn, _He thought, _Hermione can _move.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked.

Hermione gently held up his hand. The words there were runes or something were etched into the back. Most were just little pink scrapes, but some of the lines were bleeding now, probably from his shirtsleeve rubbing against his hand.

"What are you going on about Her-" Ron asked, then saw Harry's hand. "Bloody-"

"What . . . is . . . _this?" _Hermione asked. Her eyes were narrowed and dark, and her lips had pulled back on her teeth. That last word had come out more like a hiss. Strangely, even though Harry could see her own become tense with contained energy, she wasn't clenching his captured hand.

Harry frowned, or tried to, it was hard, somehow. "Umbridge's detention," he said. "She had this weird quill; when I wrote with, it carved the words into my hand. I think it used my blood for ink . . . Hermione, are you sick?"

"What?" she asked. "Don't you dare try to change the subject Harry."

"I'm not. It's just . . . your hand feels really warm. Do you have a fever?"

Hermione's cheeks turned red. "No, Harry, I'm not sick . . ."

Ron _humph_-ed in his chair. "I'm going to bed," he grumbled, then walked off.

Harry watched him go. "What was that about?"

Hermione looked away. "No idea. I'll look up a potion or something to help you with your hand, Harry."

Harry felt a great deal of warmth blossoming in his chest like one of those flowers that closes it petals at night and opens again at dawn. "Thanks, Hermione, you really don't have to."

"Yes, I do," she said. "And I want to, anyway."

Harry felt his own cheeks warm up. Wait, did that mean that, instead of being sick, Hermione was . . .

"So!" he said, maybe a little too loudly. He lowered his voice. "You want to look at the book, now?"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, let's do that." The pair walked over to the book very quickly.

A quick look through caused Harry to lean back in his chair and groan. "How could a priest be such good mates with a man like _him?"_

What he had seen so far of the king hadn't exactly been a ringing endorsement. The titles "thief," "reaver," and "slayer" didn't exactly do him justice; Conan, it seemed, had been every kind of criminal or outlaw imaginable: pirate, mercenary, and raider should have been added to the list at the start of the chapter. Heck, he became king of Aquilonia by teaming up with some dissatisfied nobles and then strangled the former king on his own throne.

"Conan was a definite improvement over his predecessor," Hermione said. "Numedides was worst kind of tyrant imaginable."

"How could he be worse than a pirate?" Harry asked, leaning forward a little.

"Well," Hermione looked over the page. "For starters, Numedides had a fondness for kidnapping attractive women—some of them already married even—and using them as concubines."

Harry's face twisted into a scowl. "Didn't their families try to do anything?"

"Some of them did," Hermione said, frowning. "They were tortured."

Harry sat back, unable to speak. Hermione kept going. "Apparently, the same thing happened when fathers tried to stop him from drafting their sons to fight against uprising nobles."

"Bloody . . ."

"Also, he taxed them pretty extremely, probably to pay for crushing the insurgencies."

Harry was silent for a moment, and then, almost desperately, he asked "And Conan was better?"

"A lot better, really," Hermione said, lifting the book closer to her face. "After he became king, most of the nobles fell in line, at least at first. Conan instantly lowered taxes; arguably Aquilionians paid the lowest taxes in the world under his rule. He also returned the girls Numedides abducted."

"But Conan kept concubines, too!" Harry protested. "I heard him mention it while talking with Harren."

"Yes, but they were acquired by various legal means," Hermione responded.

"You mean a slave trade . . ." Harry whispered.

Hermione didn't say anything. "It seems he was never cruel to them, though; in fact, the common people of Aquilionia loved him. As I said, he lowered taxes and never issued a draft, in part because he never sought to expand the nation's borders. Mostly, though, I think it was because he was genuinely kind to them. Harren mentioned the 'followers of Asura' in your dream, right?"

Harry nodded.

"they were a less popular religion in Aquilonia who were persecuted as cannibals and witches. Conan ended the persecution. Actually," she said flipping through a couple of pages, "he seemed to end persecution wherever he found it. As an outlaw, he was noted as having a certain level of honor and decency—well, near decency. After he became king, however, he assumed all responsibilities of the office. '_It was said that no noble dared oppress the meekest citizen of Aquilonia, lest Conan's wrath come down on him like fury of an avenging god.'" _She pointed out the quote to Harry in the book.

"Wow," Harry muttered. Then, he frowned. "You said the common people loved him. What about the nobles?"

"They were more of a mixed bag," Hermione responded. "Some loved him, too, Trocero, count of Poitain, for example. Others, however, particularly those who were blood-related to Numedides and should have inherited the crown under the normal way of things, weren't fond of him at all. Actually, a running theme in his rule is that various nobles or rebels were frequently trying to replace him with themselves or their allies."**(4)**

"How does Harren fit into all this?" Harry asked. Hermione turned over a page. Her eyebrows shot up for a moment, but she didn't say a word. Harry was about to ask her what she saw, when she began speaking again.

"Well, apparently he was much younger than Conan, he only reached the position of priest when Conan was well into his rule. It seems they struck up a friendship somehow; the book isn't very clear. What is clear is that he became Conan's trusted advisor and confidant."

Harry thought back to the two men in the first dream, sitting and talking so casually, exchanging jokes and drinks, and nodded.

Hermione began to chew her lip as she read. "Well, this is interesting."

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Essentially, Harren was the Merlin of his day; he was said to be the most powerful wizard in the entire world. He was so powerful he was called the Dragon, a title that hadn't been used since the Thurian Age."**(5)**

"The what?"

"I believe it's the "First Age," if this book is about the so-called "Second Age." Hermione read a little more, then started blushing. "Oh . . . Harry?" she said looking up, frowning a little.

Harry swallowed, suddenly wishing he were somewhere else right now. "Yes, Hermione?"

"You really have never read this book before in your life?"

"Yeah," he answered. "You know that, Hermione."

"All these dreams, you really had them, with no knowledge of who was in them or anything?"

"Hermione!"

"Answer me, Harry . . . please."

"Hermione . . . I'd never lie to you about something like this." What "this" was was still up for debate, but that didn't matter at the moment. "You'd see through me anyway—not that that's the only reason I wouldn't lie to you! Whenever I lie to you, or even keep a secret, it _hurts. _I feel like there's . . . a fish inside me, a fish that's been pulled out of the water and thrown on the land, flopping about and drowning in air. Maybe that's a little gross, but that's how I _feel, _'Mione."

He blushed a little at the end, calling her a name he had only ever called her in his mind before.

Instead of being mad, however, Hermione dropped the book on the floor; Harry was dimly aware that it made a loud _thud! _when it fell. Dimly, because before it the ground, Hermione had encircled her arms around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder. She began to weep softly.

"'Mione," he whispered, gently bringing his arms around her.

"Harry . . . that was the sweetest, the most beautiful thing anyone's ever said to me."

Harry tightened his arms around her a little more, "It's true, 'Mione, every line of it. I promise."

They held each other for a moment. Then, Hermione let go of him, and wiped away her tears. Harry's arms stayed at her sides, gently holding her.

Hermione took a deep breath. She didn't look like she was about to cry again; but there was a look on her face that Harry didn't like.

"What is it, Hermione?"

"Harry," she said, "I'm scared."

She picked the book up and lay it in front of him, then opened it to a page with an illustration. It was a portrait of Harren Pottris, looking exactly as Harry had dreamed of him, looking exactly like Harry.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Ahh, the plot thickens. That last bit was probably a bit confusing, so I'll commit a cardinal sin among authors and explain it. Hermione found something embarrasing in the book which caused her to question Harry. After thew episoded (in whcih I'm sure many of you were shouting "Get a room!") Hermione was forced to deal with the fact that Harry was having some sort of psychic episode, which distracted her from what she had read and honestly scared the heck out of her.

Okay, I can't promise the next chapter will come anytime soon, but I'll promise to try. Now that we've confirmed that Harry's visions are more than just an overactive teenage imagination, what will happen next?

**FOOTNOTES:**

**(0) **This is an example of footnote.

**(1) **Robert E. Howard wrote twenty-one stories of Conan, along with a poem about Conan's homeland, Cimmeria and the Hyborian age itself. Since then, other writers have added stuff, but only 21 are Howard's original stories of the barbarian.

**(2) **This is a direct quotation from the opening of _The Pheonix on the Sword, _the first story of Conan that Howard ever wrote, even though it comes late in the barbarian's own chronology.

**(3) **Wolfsbane is in fact deadly poison, just touching the stuff is unhealthy for you.

**(4)** Pretty much everything I've written here actually comes from the Conan mythos. Conan was a world-famous outlaw and mercenary, even in distant countries. Yet, even then, he had a certain digree of honor (at one point a woman tells him that her father sold her into slavery for not marrying his choice of husband, and Conan is disgusted) Irionically, after stealing the throne of Aquilonia, he was a model king, far more likeable than many of the characters of noble blood. _Thus subtly does the instinct of sovereign responsibility enter even a red-handed plunderer sometimes-The Scarlet Citadel._

And yes, the last three stories, which all deal with Conan's kingship, all include a conspiracy to asassinate him and replace him with someone related to Numedides.

**(5) **The Thurian Age was about 90,000 years before the Hyborian which is 100,000 to us. It was so far back in the past that the advanced kingdom of Atlantis was just an island home to barbarians. One such barbarian was Kull who was a proto-Conan figure. In fact, _The Pheonix on the Sword _began life as a rejected Kull story that Howard reworked to have more action and supernatural and less philosophy. Kull the king's stories had plenty of magic but were usually burdened with what seems like excessive musings on society and the universe. Also, Kull's stories had no romantic elements, which probably hurt him when compared to Conan's unrepentant womanizing.

P.S. Anyone who knows where the title, The Dragon comes from wins a prize!


	4. Chapter 4: An Illuminating Light

**Author's Notes: **Okay, sorry for the long wait. Hopefully, this chapter will make up for it.

TwiztidOne and Ital de Labardo: You get the cookie :) Dragon Reborn does indeed come from _The Wheel of Time. _Kudos to both of you! P.S., Ital, sorry, but I have yet to come up with a name for the Third or Fourth (the current) Age.

atymer: Thank you very much, making names for foreign cultres, especially fictional ones, is always annoying for me.

Birga: It'd have to be Elric, 'cause he's the only one I've read. To be honest, though, I'm more likely to borrow themes from Moorcock than anything else, but you never know . . .

robert32514: That depends on what you mean by "return." If you want the Cimmerian himself to make an appearance, than no. Will Harry have anymore dreams involving him, maybe. I haven't planned that far out yet.

Penny is wise: A little patience, please. Hopefully what happens in this chapter will hold you over for a while (hint!)

Guest: You are very wise. I don't understand how men could ever think women were inferior to men. If anyone's better, I'd expect it to be women. P.S. I utterly despise the Ron/Hermione thing and don't understand why Rowling did it. Hermione belongs with Harry, end of story.

Crossoverpairinglover: Tough choice. Peter and Harry have both had it rough (Stan Lee once remarked that people asked him to stop giving Peter so many problems whereas he felt he could never give the poor guy _enough _problem, although I submit that neither of them has anything on Joss Wheadon's Angel**(1)**.

I know this is late but Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all.

* * *

**The Black Lake; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 10, 1995; 4:13p.m.**

Harry kicked a stone as he walked along the lake. It may have been the fourth one he kicked . . . or the four hundredth. He wasn't paying attention. He was done with classes. Until Umbrage's detention, his time was all his own.

Which as the problem: it was all _his _own and no one else's.

The entire day, the two people closest to him had become the two people most distant to him. Ron had barely spoken a word and was content to play chess with Seamus Finnagan. When Harry had left the Commonroom, the red-head hadn't even acknowledged him. He guessed his best friend was angry at him over something, but he couldn't figure out what.

Then, there was Hermione. She hadn't spoken much either, but she hadn't chosen the furthest seat in class or the Great Hall from his, and she still tried to smile at him when he left. Harry sighed. The worst thing, perhaps, was that he _knew_ why she was so withdrawn.

**The Gryffindor Commonroom; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 9, 1995; 11:45p.m.**

Harry and Hermione didn't know how long they sat together like that. Finally, Harry decided they needed help, _serious_ help . . . or rather, _Sirius _help.

_**"Harry," **_Sirius' mirror-image groaned, _**"Don't you know how late it is? Don't you have class tomorrow?"**_

"Sirius, what's going on?" Hermione demanded before Harry could respond. "What did you do to that book?"

"_**Nothing," **_Sirius answered, looking confused. _**"Moony was the last one to own it, remember?"**_

"Then, how do you explain this?" Hermione asked, holding up the book. It was open to the portrait of Harren.

Sirius' eyes went wide. _**" . . . I forgot about that. Well, this puts a new spin on things."**_

"Sirius," Harry interrupted. "What's going on? I'm having dreams about stories I've never heard, imagining people I've never met, and three of them look like me!"

"_Three?" _Hermione cried, turning towards him.

Harry swallowed. He recalled the look of burning hatred in Voldemort's blood-red eyes the night he was reborn. It had been more than a little unnerving, but, looking into Hermione's beautiful brown eyes at that moment, Harry felt absolutely terrified.

"Harry . . ." she said—no, she _growled._

"Well," Harry said, licking his suddenly dry lips, "you remember how, that night in the Burrow, I mentioned that I had been having dreams about people other than Harren, right?"

Hermione still scowled at him, but her faced became even redder. Harry realized she was . . . blushing.

"Right," she huffed. "You did . . . What were they about?"

Harry sighed. "Two other men. They didn't look as much like me as Harren did, but there was something about their eyes, their faces, something in the way they spoke and acted, that reminded me of, well, me."

_He lounged on a silk couch, with plush pillows richly embroidered. The room was softly lit, with beautiful tapestries and hangings. Sweet smelling incense drifted in the air. Harry flopped around on the couch, unable to make himself comfortable on the most luxurious thing he had ever lain on._

"_Having trouble, my love?" a soft voice asked. Harry turned and saw a young woman walking toward him. She was dressed in silks even finer than the ones he lay on but scantily, like the slave outfits he had dreamed the Patils wore. The Patils weren't wearing jewelry like her's, though, golden bangles and necklaces and even a tiara all studded with shining rubies and emeralds and sapphires and diamonds. Her brown hair was delicately piled about her face and her pale skin seemed to glow in the candle light. When she touched his hand, hers was soft as velvet. She had blue eyes that made the night sky seem starless by comparison. A small smile graced her face, a smile that set his heart racing. _

_And the way she walked, it was simple, yet seductive. Her hips swayed ever so slightly, and her steps were brisk and even. It wasn't to delicate or too hurried. It was perfect._

"_This couch is too soft," he complained. "It's too slippery. I feel as though I'm going to fall over the side with one good roll."_

"_Perhaps, then," she said, her smile widening, "You should cease tossing and turning so much."_

_Harry sighed "Perhaps. . ." Then grabbed her waist and pulled her down onto him, kissing her slowly and intensely. "But, I think I'll be better able to stay still with a little weight to hold me down."_

"_You cad!" she cried, her eyes and mouth wide. She swatted him gently on the arm. They both chuckled._

"_I said 'a _little _weight."_ _Harry replied, kissing her again. _

"_You are still lucky you kiss so well," she replied, "else I would roast you for your insolence, Wizard."_

_Harry laughed again. Or rather, the person Harry was in laughed again. As the man began rubbing his lady's arm, Harry caught a glimpse of his vessel's. It wasn't his, of course, but nor was it Harren's. Harry had small, wiry arms, the result of a combination of years of malnutrition and Quidditch. Harren, by contrast, had delicate arms, the arms of a scholar rather than an athlete, but he looked more well-fed. The new man's arms were more muscular than Harry's, but healthy looking, like Harren's. There was one quality, however, that marked this body as different from both his and that of Harren Pottris; the arm was brown._

_ Harry jerked his eyes away from the arm and looked the woman in the eyes as she pulled away from another kiss. He looked into her eyes, and almost lost himself. For a moment, his mind was blank, and all he could do was stare at this woman. Then, he recovered, as his vessel began speaking again. Harry wasn't sure what he was talking about. What he didn't hear wasn't important. What he _did see _was. Staring into the woman's eyes was his own face. It was different, the hair was longer, pulled into a pony tail to control it, and it also bore a scar down one cheek. There was no mistaking it, however, the reflection he in the woman's eye was another older version of himself._

"_So!" a voice called from behind him. Harry, or whoever it was, turned around. There was another woman, this one also dark-skinned, who seemed eerily familiar, but he couldn't quite place her. She had elegant, finely shaped features and lustrous black hair that fell around her face. Her fine eyebrows curved into a light frown over violet eyes. She was dressed a little more conservatively than the blonde, but not by much. On her hip she carried a little girl. "This is how I find my husband? Cavorting with a slave while I take care of his child?" _

_The words would have stung, if she had tried to hide her smirk and the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Harry's vessel burst out laughing. "Forgive me, Vanessa. I am only a man in a siren's thrall." _

_The blonde didn't help at all; she draped herself over him and whispered in a sweet, breathy voice "Master, I am a mere slave, and you are a mighty wizard. How could I ever hope to enthrall one so great?"_

_Harry felt his blood rush to his face, if only in his imagination, but his vessel merely sighed. "Alas, all women are against me." _

_Then, the little girl laughed. _"A-hah, hehehehe . . ." _she gurgled, squirming in her mother's arms. The woman smiled, and it turned her from a beautiful, living work of art into a beautiful woman. She lifted the girl up and put her in the vessel's outstretched arms._

"_You're not against me, are you, Princess?" Harry dimly heard him ask the girl. "You'll always be on my side, won't you?" She responded with another round of giggles. Something had captured Harry's attention, however. The little girl, although as dark as her parents, was dead ringer for Hermione **(2)**. . ._

Which was probably why Hermione had spent the whole day, well, not avoiding him exactly, but she hadn't been as warm as she usually was.

Harry absent-mindedly kicked another rock, thinking about how things usually were: the three of them sitting together talking and laughing. He hadn't noticed before how much he liked Hermione's laugh, it was . . . cheerful. He kicked another rock; it was the best he could come up with.

"_Neigggghhh!"_

Harry heard what sounded like a recording of a horse being played through a defective speaker. He looked up—and leaped back. Right in front of him was one of the black, skeletal horses he had seen pulling the carriages when they had arrived. It stepped forward making almost no sound.

"They can be really quiet, you know," a soft voice said behind him. Harry whipped around. There, surrounded by the frightening beasts, was the blond girl he had sat with on the train: Luna Lovegood, whom Ginny had called "Loony." She was petting the nose of one of the horses and rubbing the back of another with her free hand. Her soft smile somehow calmed his nerves while doubling his heartbeat.

"I didn't," Harry answered. He watched her for a moment, then, slowly, put his hand out and began to rub the nose of the nearest horse.

"They're quite nice, really," she went on. "Most people are afraid because they're . . ."

"Because they're different," Harry finished, turning to her. Now, he was smiling. It seemed like there was someone else who understood what that meant. Someone-

"Nice to see you're not being a woolhead,"Luna remarked, exploding Harry's world with a single sentence.

Harry stopped petting the horse. His head snapped to her. "Where did you hear that?" In three seconds, he was standing in front of her. "Where did you hear that?"

Luna stopped petting too. Her eyes focused, and her voice lost its usual sing-songiness. "Harry . . ." she began.

"Tell me!" he demanded, grabbing her shoulders tightly and drawing her close. His heart was beating like a drum in his chest and his blood raced. His arms and legs shook. If he hadn't been holding her he might have fallen over.

"Harry, you're hurting me," Luna said, sending a bullet of clarity into his addled brain. He saw that her eyes were wide, and her body was very stiff. He realized that his fingers were digging into her arms and immediately let go; they fell dead at his sides. His heart slowed, and his blood cooled, allowing his mind to analyze his actions in agonizing detail.

"Oh Luna . . ." How could he have done that? After all the years of victimization, after thinking he had finally found someone who understood what it was to be him, _how? _"I'm sorry; I-"

His legs buckled underneath him, and he _would _have fallen over . . . if Luna hadn't wrapped her arms around him to hold him steady. The horses, which had backed away from him in his moment of rage, know circled around them, forming an invisible, protective ring. Somehow, they knelt down together.

"It's all right," she whispered. "It's all right. I forget sometimes that I'm not like other people."

"Luna," he struggled. "That's no excuse. Being different doesn't mean you have to put up with . . ." with what? With being assaulted by someone she was being friendly with. His heart sank, and his blood became painfully cold.

"No, Harry," she whispered. "But it means that I have to remember that other people don't . . . _view _things the way I do." She shook her head. "I knew this would happen, but I wasn't thinking about what it must be like for you." She looked into his eyes, and Harry's heart thundered to life again as he lost himself in those beautiful grey eyes. "Harry, if I forgive you for grabbing me, will you forgive me for being so careless?" Her breath hitched as she spoke. Somehow, something inside Harry saw this and realized what it meant, recognized how badly she needed this.

The feeling returned to his arms, and, almost instinctively, he wrapped them around her, gently yet closely. Some part of him experienced a sense of _déjà vu_ and crowed in triumph. But, he ignored it, continuing to look deeply into those eyes and responded to her. "Yes, Luna, I forgive you, completely and unconditionally."

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, burying her head in his chest. Harry brought his head down on top of hers, and, together, they wept softly.

* * *

Sometime later, when they had stopped crying and were not holding each other so tightly, Harry recalled what Luna had said earlier. "Luna," he said, "What did you mean when you said something about knowing this would happen? Did you know. . .?"

"It's hard to explain," she said, now calm. "But, I do know this, somehow, you've been having dreams or maybe hallucinations about people and events that you've never seen or heard of?"

Harry swallowed, his heart hammered again, but this time he controlled himself. "Yes . . . How did you know?"

"Well," she said with a smile, "I know you were raised in the muggle world, but even if you weren't, there are few wizarding families today who know the old stories. They might be recorded in the Library, but I don't think Hermione is the type to look up old legends that almost no one believes in anymore. So, it was unlikely you'd ever heard of these events before."

Harry chuckled a little. "No, she wouldn't." Then he turned serious again. "But how did you know I was going to be having the dreams in the first place?"

"I saw it in my viewings" Luna replied promptly. "I saw that you would begin to remember events from your past lives which would herald your reawakening."

"Past lives," Harry repeated, his mouth suddenly dry and his head spinning. "You mean . . . all those people . . . I was looking at things through their eyes . . . Harren Pottris . . ."

"He was your identity in the Second Age," Luna replied, closing her eyes and breathing slowly, "as Krell of the House of the Wyrm**(3),** the First Dragon, was in the First Age and as Rand Al'Thor, the Dragon Reborn, was in the Third Age**(4)**." She opened her eyes and stared into his. "They say 'you only live once,' really, it's more accurate to say, 'you only live once each Age.' Each of us is born, dies, and then is reborn in the next Age, and we will continue until the Seventh Age, when everything ends and all the Worlds die."

"That's . . ." Harry stuttered. "That's impossible, Luna . . . It's just . . ." Then, something clicked in Harry's brain. Luna called her visions of him "viewings," she was close to the skeletal horses, she said he wasn't being a "woolhead," she had made him laugh when it seemed like that there was nothing laugh at, and she had the power to stand him on his head at the drop of a hat. _"Min Farshaw?"_

"At last, I was beginning to worry you'd never figure it out." She smiled at him. "Yes, Harry, I was Min Farshaw, in my last life, although my last name was different when I died."

Harry blushed. "I know, in one of the dreams, you were telling me you loved me . . . after . . ."

"After, we slept together and you locked yourself away for a week because you thought you raped me?" Luna responded, unperturbed. "Yes, that memory is very vivid in my mind. I also recall I said a lot of unflattering things to you when you insisted that I didn't consent or that you didn't deserve to be loved**(5).**"

Harry's blush deepened. He remembered that, too. Amazing that a girl so much smaller than himself had been able to intimidate him so badly. Then, he thought of something. "Luna, how do you know all this? Do you have dreams too?"

Luna shrugged. "Sometimes, mostly it's like my viewings: hallucinations, you could call them."

"I thought your viewings only showed the future."

"Last time that was true. Maybe they're different this time, or maybe it's because our pasts are so linked to the future."

"Maybe," Harry said, not doubting her, just a little overwhelmed by the moment. "But, wait," he said. "There's something I don't get. When I first dreamed of Harren, he was married to Hermione, Hermonia; they mentioned someone named Luna-"

"Yes, that was me, except I was your sister then, not your lover."

"That's what I don't understand!" Harry exclaimed. "And, when I dreamed of Krell or whoever I saw his baby girl, and I _knew_ that was Hermione! How is that possible?"

Luna sighed. "Harry . . . what does the word 'soulmates" mean to you?"

"Um . . . I guess it's a romantic term people use for their lovers."

Luna nodded. "That's the common definition in this Age, but there's another, more correct one. Soulmates, Harry, are people who are deeply connected throughout all their reincarnations. While casual friends may meet again and again, they are not soulmates. That level of connection requires something stronger than just friendship: it takes love, of a kind. You, Hermione, and myself are soulmates. That means that we're always going to be together, but not always in the same way. In one life, we three could all be lovers; in another, Hermione is your sister, and I am your love; the next may leave all three of us siblings, and the one after that could leave either myself or Hermione your wife and the other your child while the next life reverses our roles. What our relationships are is unimportant; all that matters is that we are always together and always loving one another**(6)**."

Harry thought about that for a moment, all eterity to spend with the ones he loved. _Loved? _There it was, the reason why Hermione's absence pained him so much more than Ron's did. He loved her; he always had, and he always would. He looked down at the girl in his arms and realized something else. Despite having only known Luna a few days, and only really known her for maybe an hour, he loved her, too. _When you think about it, _he thought _we've known_ _each other for millennia. _"Oh yes," she said, "breaking him out of his musings. "You've got several other soulmates, as well. You've probably already guessed that from your dreams. One of my viewings showed us all together, so I think we'll all be your lovers as well, this time. You should really invest in a king-size bed, Harry."

It was all delivered in a perfect, matter-of-fact tone, as though everything had already been settled. _Exactly she told me when she was Min "Just so you'll know, I love you, too . . . And to be fair, Rand, I have to tell you that Elayne loves you, too. So does Aviendha.__**(7)**__" _"Does it ever bother you that you can't have me all to yourself?" he asked.

"It bothered Min at times," she answered, promptly, "and Selene**(8)**, my first life, was disappointed for a long time, but I've spent years having these viewings, long before I was before I was old enough to be disappointed. Actually," she thought for a moment. "At this point, I think I would be more disappointed if I was alone."

Harry's arms tightened around her again. "You'll never be alone, Luna. I promise."

They looked into one another's eyes. Intense green orbs meeting wide grey ones. Later, they wouldn't remember who moved first or if they moved together, but soon their lips met and the two forgot everything around them as they kissed for the first time in thousands of years.

Therefore, they didn't hear or see the lone figure who crept up behind the trees and, because this person had never seen death, saw them kiss. The figure stood for just an instant, then bolted.

* * *

Intrigue! Who is this mysterious spy? What does his/her presence mean for our heroes? How will Harry confront his other soulmates? Find out on the next exciting episode of Dragon-NO! No. I'm an not going there!

Now that that's settled, let's wrap this chapter up shall we? Lots of drama here, hope none of you lost your lunches on this emotional roller coaster. I don't hink this qualifies as an exposition dump, but I'd say this chapter is something of a lore dump for both Earth 1 and the World Tree Series as a whole. Still more coming, though!

**Footnotes: **

**(1) **If you've never watched _Buffy the Vampire Slayer _and/or _Angel, _let me give you Angel's backstory (or you could just watch a short summary here: watch?v=rzHK61rb1xA). Angel was born as Liam, the irresponsible, hard-drinking, womanizing Irishman. Then, he was sired as the soulless vampire Angelus, The Scourge of Europe, who was perhaps the most evil and sadistic vampire of them all. Then, his soul (and thus, his conscience) was restored to him; "You don't know what its like to do the things I've done . . . and care." Now forced to live with the guilt of a hundred years' worth of pure evil, Angel drifted for a hundred years or so, occasionally trying to do good, but often failing. Then, he met Buffy, the Slayer, the girl chosen by Fate to fight the vampire menance, and Angel fell in love for the first time in his life (240+). This relationship went through its ups and downs until Angel and Buffy finally slept together in season 2, resulting in Angel experiencing a moment of "perfect happiness. . ." wich caused him to lose his soul and turn back into Angelus, terrorize Buffy and her friends, and attempt to suck the world into Hell. Buffy's friend Willow was able to restore Angel's soul, but it was too little too late. Angelus had already opened the portal and was bound to it. So, Buffy kissed Angel, then shoved him in. When Angel was somehow returned to Earth (Perhaps by the Powers That Be) he and Buffy tried a celebate relationship before Angel realized Buffy could never be happy or healthy with him. So, he left, and returned to Los Angeles where he attempted to achieve redemption by "helping the helpless." And all that was (chronologically) before the first episode of _Angel, _where the writers adopted the motto "Whenever Angel gets just a little bit of happiness, let's rip it away from him in the most painful way possible." Look him up on Wikipedia or the Buffyverse's wiki site if you want to know more.

**(2)** Information on Robert E. Howard's Atlantis in its Hayday are pretty sketchy, only a few refernces in the Conan stories and one Atlantean decendant in the Solomon Kane story "The Moon of Skulls." The man in question was brown-skinned and mentioned his race was as a rule. So, the athestics are mostly inspired by Kull's Valusia. Vanessa is not an Atlantean name, but it sounded classical enough to work. "Siren" is a clue by the way.

**(3) **Again, I know jack about Howard's Atlantis, so the House of Wyrm is my own creation, hopefully I'll be able to do more with it. Wyrm is an old word for Dragon, FYI. In case anyone guessed this, "Krell" is derived from "Kull."

**(4) **I feel compelled tto put this here because someone will call me on it if I don't; Lews Therin is _not _one of Harry's (and therefore Rand's) past lives. This does not mean, however, that he does not have a part to play in the story. He, or rather, his real reincarnation, does have an important role in this story and possibly the future _World Tree _stories. I should also mention now that the events of Rand's lifetime don't perfectly follow _Wheel of Time _cannon, I made some changes that will be explained later to make Rand's story fit this world better. I will now, though, that the utopian Second Age did _not _exist in this world.

**(5) **This actually happened in the seventh _Wheel of Time _book, _The Crown of Swords._ It is perhaps the best scene in the whole book and the whole series. We see Rand's extreme self-loathing (he wants to kill himself but can't until he beats the bad guys), followed up by his confusion and Min doing what she does best: driving Rand nuts. This is also the part when Rand (who grew up in what is essentially rural, Medieval Europe) is forced to confront the fact that he is in love with three women, and they him in return. Seriously, its just one chapter but it is worth the whole book.

**(6) **This is the definition of soulmates, more or less, as presented in Rumblepurr's _Jellicle Chronicles. _If you like _Cats_, or find the idea of a group of magical, anthromorphic felines living in a junkyard (or Ancient Egypt or as human-sized aliens on another planet) appealing, VISIT THIS SITE. Basically, Chronicles picks up after the show ends and spins an epic tale about the Jellicles that spans 15 years. There's also a prequel ("Ancients") set in Ancient Egypt and a sequal ("The Jellicle Tribe") set when the spirits of the tribe return to their ancient homeworld as Yealikah (fun fact: Jellicle Tribe was written first by another author, Rumblepurr modified the first three "books"a little then wrote the fourth and its sequals along with the prequals) and a spinoff set in New York ("The New Jellicle Chronicles"). Be warned! Some of the stories (especially the sequals to "Tribe") contain: foul language, sexual content, torture, rape, and character death. Believe you me, you will never look at Macavity the same way if you read this stuff. But, if you can stand it, the stories are pretty compelling and contain a wonderful cast of characters (which can become a problem when the origionals have kids and the tribe becomes a small army).

Getting back on topic, this scene was somewhat inpsired by a scene in "The Ancients" when Demeter (who is a seeress) has a vision of the future and seeing herself, Munkustrap, and the third member of their triad, Bombalurina (sorry, Cassandra fans). Most of this was borrowed from this scene, plus a story later on in the "Ancients"series (I can't figure out which one, sorry). You can read the original here: . . (be warned: there is a lot of graphic sex later on in the story, it's rated R, but you can still read about the vision before the graphic stuff hits.) The stories that come later prove this is true, the tribe may stay together, but the "First Family" is always connected somehow. For any who guessed, in Luna's scenario, Harry (the male) is Munkustrap, Luna (the seeress) is Demeter, and Hermione is (by default, really) Bombalurina (if you've read the stories or seen the show, you know how ridiculous that is).

Some of you are probably wondering why I chose to do it this way. Well, honestly, it saved me the trouble of having to shoehorn in a reason of why Rand would have X number of lovers when Min only saw two women and herself. It also seemed more interesting than having all past versions of Harry wind up with X number of ladies (eventually, this is going to come up in the story, and imagining the same group finding each other through increasingly contrived circumstances felt lame).

**(7) **This is a quote from that chapter I mentioned earlier, abridged somewhat.

**(8) **Selene is the Greek name for the Moon/Moon goddess (Artemis was goddess of the Moon; Selen was the Moon itself). Luna is Latin.

I realize they were a little long this time, sorry.

**Additional Notes: **I think the "completely and unconditionally" line may be a quote of _Doctor Who_ Series 6: "The Wedding of River Song." I won't check because it was unintentional. I just felt like sharing. If you want you can tell me if I'm right or not. I don't really care.

It wasn't until I was writing about Harry confronting Luna that I remembered that Min loved horses. I originally put hte Threstrals in to recreat the scene in the _Order of the Pheonix _movie (I can't remember if it happened in the book, but I think not.) Sometimes things just work out that way. There is a God.

The line _"Min Farshaw?" _I realized after writing it was inspired by book 8 of _The Saga of Darren Shan: Allies of the Night. _(SPOILER WARNING) It's inspired from the scene where Darren realizes the hook-handed vampaneze is really his old friend R.V. (_"Reggie Veggie?")._ After Darren makes the connection, the chapter ends, which I did consider doing, but I really wanted to talk about the lore, explain the Hermonia/baby Hermione thing, and the rest of the chapter seemed to short to be a stand alone so I finished it up.


	5. Chapter 5: Complications

**Author's Note: **Yeah! A new chapter in what must be record time for me! Okay, you may or may not have noticed that I made a slight change to the previous chapter. Long story short, I thought I was changing the number of women in Harry's harem, only to realize when I went back to the last chapter, I had never specified the number, but I needed to change a few things anyway. I also went back to this story and removed the number, since putting in a specific number contradicts things, and I want you guys to keep scratching your heads for another chapter or two. I promise I will reveal the number and the idenitites of the ladies in question soon. Just not right yet.

* * *

**The Black Lake; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 10, 1995; 5:17 p.m.**

Harry and Luna sat admiring their surroundings. The horses were playing with each other, on the grass, in the air, and in the shallows of the lake. The giant squid lifted one of its tentacles once, as though stretching. _I wonder what it's like to wake up when you're a squid, _Harry thought. He imagined the squid lying on the bottom of the lake, then swimming up a little and shooting all its tentacles out like a giant pink asterisk or a surprised cartoon cat.

He shook his head and turned his attention back to the girl in his arms. Luna was sitting sidewise in his lap, her arms wrapped around his side, her head resting on his shoulder. In all of about an hour or so, they had gone from acquaintances to . . . what? Dating? But they were already married, sort of.

"Confusing, isn't it?" Luna said, shifting slightly to look up at him. "It took me a while to sort it out in my mind; visions of the past and future are a lot for a six-year-old to deal with, don't you think?"

"I guess," Harry replied. They turned back to the lake. The wind was blowing from the West, creating small waves in the water, and chilling their faces.

"I think we should go, Harry," Luna sighed. "It's about time for dinner, and people will wonder if you don't show up."

Harry frowned. He didn't know why—maybe it was the sight of her standing alone with horses no one else could see and riding in a compartment on the train alone—but he found himself asking, "What about you, Luna? Won't your friends miss you?"

"No, I don't have any," Luna said without a moment's hesitation.

"What?" Harry choked out. Unconsciously, his arms pulled her closer to his chest. "Luna . . . what do you mean?"

"I mean there isn't really anyone I can really say I'm friends with," she answered, shrugging a little.

"But, but," Harry sputtered. "What about the other students in Ravenclaw? What about . . . _Ginny?"_ he cried, remembering that Ginny at least knew the girl well enough to introduce her to him, Hermione, and Ron.

Luna was quite for a moment. "Ginny and I were friends when we were little girls," she said at last. "But, as we grew older, she stopped coming over to play. I haven't spoken to her since she introduced us on the train."

". . . why?" Harry asked.

Luna shrugged. "People grow apart, Harry; it happens. Maybe she, or her mother, didn't like how different I was becoming. It's all right; I don't hold it against her."

But Harry felt her arms tighten just a little more around his torso. He chose not to mention it, however; he understood more than most how painful rejection was. So, instead of confronting her, he pulled her closer into his embrace, trying to let her feel his love for her. They could talk about Ginny another time.

That didn't mean he was letting the conversation go . . .

"What about your Housemates?" Harry asked.

". . . Some of them are polite, Padma and Su Li. They're nice enough."

"But, they're not your friends?" Harry asked.

Luna shook her head just a little. "No, they're nice, but they don't really go out of their way for me."

". . . And the others?" Harry asked quietly.

" . . . They don't like me very much," Luna admitted. She spoke differently. It wasn't that sing-songy sense of wonder she usually used, and it wasn't the soft wisdom she showed when he had been about to collapse under his guilt. Luna sounded hurt and defeated, and Harry decided at that moment that he hated that sound.

She continued on, however, "They're the ones who started calling me 'Loony' Lovegood. They used to make fun of me, but I stopped crying so they stopped, mostly. They started taking my things instead."

"They _steal _your stuff?" Harry cried.

"No," Luna said. "They don't ask, but they don't take my things to keep them. They just hide them for me to find. It's a game we play . . . except they like it best when I can't find what they took."

". . . How . . . how much have you lost?" Harry asked.

"Not much," she replied. "Nothing important," she added, one arm letting go of his chest to touch one of her radish earrings.

"Why didn't you tell someone? Like Professor Flitwick?" Harry knew he was being a little harsh, but he couldn't help it; having spent much of his life with so few possessions, theft hit a nerve with him.

Luna just sighed and leaned into his embrace a little more. "I did, early on, but he couldn't stop all of them. It only encouraged them to be worse, anyway. So, I just pretend like it doesn't bother me. Sometimes, they just give up and leave me alone."

Harry Potter was neither the most intelligent man in history nor the most intuitive, but he _did _have a certain level of empathy, and it was telling him to drop it. So, he did—for the moment. This too, would be address at another time.

Instead, he allowed Luna to get up out of his lap, despite the sharp sting he felt as she did so and the phantom weight as though she were still sitting on him. The lithe witch held out her hand to him, and, smiling, he accepted it and let her help him up. Still holding hands, the young couple began to walk back to the Castle.

He was silent for moment before asking something that had nagging him for a while now. "Luna . . . my memories of Rand are kind of sketchy, but, from what I remember of Min . . . she didn't have any powers aside from the viewings . . ."

"So, you're wondering how it is I'm a witch?" Luna asked. When Harry nodded to her, she shook her head in reply. "I'm not entirely sure myself. For all the knowledge my viewings give me, there is still so much I don't know about either the past or the future." Harry frowned a little at that but didn't say anything. "Still," she continued, "whatever _Wyrd_ we share, I'm just happy to share it with you."

"'_Wyrd?'" _Harry asked.

"It's an old word for Fate or luck. Really, it's a little hard to translate it into English; I've never really felt either of those was an adequate translation, nor did it correctly convey my understanding of the universe. _Ka, I _think, is a much better synonym."

"What?"

"_Ka _is a word from the _Dark Tower _books by the American Muggle author, Stephen King. Have you ever read them, Harry? Personally, most magical fiction is very boring in, my opinion."

Harry thought. "I've heard of him. Didn't he make that movie, _Salem's Lot? _My cousin, Dudley's watched it about a dozen times, and _The Shining _now that I think about it." Of course, Dudley had to be careful that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't find out about his watching them. They would certainly not have approved.

"He wrote the book the movie was based on, along with a small army of others. In the _Dark Tower _books (the ones so far, anyway) _Ka _is translated as 'destiny, duty, life-force, consciousness,' and even 'a place one needs to go to.' That feels like a more proper definition for . . ." here Luna waved her hand a little at nothing in particular. . . "whatever is going on."

"The Pattern," Harry whispered.

Luna beamed. "Yes, Harry, the Pattern**(1)**."

**The Gryffindor Commonroom; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 10, 1995; 11:30 p.m.**

Harry sighed as the potion Hermione had made began healing his hand. Well, maybe not _healing, per se, _he still had the scars, but they were sealing up faster, and the pain was lessened. That was enough for him.

Hermione herself sat across from him. Her face buried deep in her Arithmacy book. Every so often, she would look up to examine his hand, then return to her reading without saying a word.

Harry bit his lip as he observed this. Hermione was his soulmate; he truly loved her, but she was pushing him out. All because of those dreams! On one hand, he wanted to curse them, but, he realized he might never have understood how much she meant to him if it hadn't been for those memories of his past lives. _But what am I supposed to do? Walk up and say, "Hey, Hermione, I'm in love with you, BUT, I'm in love or will be in love with some other girls, too. I don't know who or how many, but Luna Lovegood's one of them. It's all part of Destiny, or _Ka." . . . _That will go well._

On the other hand, he would have to tell her eventually . . . and this separation was . . . "Hermione?" he asked.

She didn't respond. Harry was about to ask again, when—

"Yes, Harry," she said. Hermione didn't look up from her book, but Harry could see that she was no longer reading; she was just staring at the page, her eyes unmoving.

Harry decided to do what he did best. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm sorry I dragged you into this. If I hadn't told you about those first two dreams—"

"It's not your fault, Harry." She said. The bushy-haired witch took a deep breathe. "I'm the one who's at fault. I was . . . scared. Scared of something I didn't understand, that I couldn't explain." She bit her lip. "I still can't explain it, and I still don't understand it. But, I realize now, you're not to blame, Harry." Now, she looked up at him. Her eyes were moist. "I'm sorry I pushed you away, Harry. Can you forgive me? Please?"

Harry tried to say yes, tried to tell her it was all right, but he couldn't. His mouth couldn't form the words. Instead, he got up, walked over, and wrapped his arms around her. The book fell to the floor as Hermione returned the embrace, shaking as she cried into his shoulder. This prompted Harry to tighten his grip on her as steady streams streaked down his own face, too.

**The Ravenclaw Dormatories; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 10, 1995; 11:30 p.m.**

While Harry was repairing his relationship with Hermione, Luna was already deep in sleep. One would think that being reunited with her soulmate would be enough to keep anyone awake, but that would be underestimating Luna Lovegood. The blond witch was sound asleep, with her sheets tucked up to her chin and, for once, her feet firmly resting on the mattress. She was horribly prone to sleepwalking.

Another thing one might suspect is that, given her personality, Luna's dreams would be . . . different from most people's, and, in this case anyway, that assumption would be absolutely correct . . .

Luna was walking through a garden—not the school garden. Oh, no, it was much too nice to be one of the gardens at Hogwarts. Not that those gardens were bad, mind you—Professor Sprout worked hard to keep those gardens the most beautiful in Magical Britain. But this garden was more beautiful than any on the face of the Earth. The flowers were indigo and blue and white and gold; they stood out well in the starlight. The leaves were dark green with silver and gold veins, that sparkled in the night. Birds flitted from one bush to another as small animals walked through the brush and insects played in the distance. One that looked like a fox but wasn't walked up to her. She smiled and reached down to pet it. In real life, of course, this would have been a very dangerous move, but this was a dream. And, because Luna knew she was dreaming, she was not afraid.

After a moment, the fox-creature let out a _yowl _and scampered down the path. It stopped before disappearing from view, and Luna understood that it wanted her to follow it. It led to what must have been the center of the dream-garden, for all the flower beds and hedges converged in a circle around it. In the center, was a silver tree with dark green leaves and silver flowers. The flowers seemed to shine like moonlight and dew fell ceaselessly from them, like shooting stars, coating the grass in a shining, silvery sheen**(2)**. The fox ran up to a bench beneath the tree; on it sat a woman dressed in a Japanese Kimono. It was black with a white sash and white lilies were sown onto it. The woman who wore it matched the color-scheme. She had hair as black as ebony and skin as white as snow. Curousily, given her Japanese outfit, she had the tattoo of the eye of Horus and, dangling from her throat, was a silver ankh**(3). **She turned to face Luna, and the witch saw that her eyes and lips were black as well, and seemed to shine like water. She was smiling.

"Hello, Luna" she said. "I've been expecting you." Her voice was beautiful, warm, and made Luna smile in return.

"Hello, My Lady," she responded, curtseying to the woman. "Not that I'm unhappy to see you, but I wasn't expecting to see you here."

The woman sighed but kept smiling. "Well, no one's ever really expecting to see me but I'm glad you're _happy_ to see me." She reached down to pet the fox-creature. "So many people are unhappy, it gets a little annoying after a while."

"Their only unhappy before they get to know you, My Lady," Luna said, frowning a little. She was all too accustomed to being misjudged.

"You can stop with the 'My Lady' stuff," the sitter replied, waving her hand dismissively. "I don't really care for it; it interrupts your speaking and sounds awkward." Then, laughing a little, he added, "Besides, I don't need it to get people's respect. Now," she said, patting the bench beside her, "please, come sit with me. We have much to discuss." When the young witch had complied, she spoke, "You have reunited with your soulmate, I see."

Luna nodded. "Yes, and soon, I hope to bring the others to us."

"Soon would be preferable," the woman said, sighing now. "You have a lot of work ahead of you, I'm afraid."

Luna, for once, looked confused. Then, her eyes went wide, and her mouth opened and closed in silence. Her hands clasped themselves over her heart. "Tarmon Gai'don," she breathed**(4).**

The woman nodded. "It's coming. Not soon, as you count the years, but it will be here much too soon for your comfort."

Luna nodded. ". . . When?"

The woman shrugged. "Even we don't know that. The Age will end within a few decades, but as to when . . . _he _will make his move." She shook her head. "Sadly, however, our side won't have much time to prepare. The next few decades will be quite chaotic, I'm afraid. Your Voldemort's only part of the problem."

Luna nodded. "I knew it was coming," she said, "but, I thought we had more time, time to deal with the Death Eaters, time to train, time to . . . to _live," _she said, turning to the woman. "I thought we could have some time to ourselves, to get married and raise children, and, and just be _ordinary."_

The woman wrapped her arms around Luna's tiny frame. "I understand, Luna, I truly do. You could never be _'ordinary,' _of course; that comes with the territory, I'm afraid, but I do wish that you and your family could enjoy your youth a little longer, could have the time you wish for . . ."

"Unfortunately," a new voice said, "that's not the way the worlds work." Luna looked up and saw a new woman walking through the garden. This one wore a Roman-style gown, but blue rather than white. Her hair was black, also, held out of her face by a golden tiara. On her arms were gold bangles and armlets, and around her neck was a pendent, a blue jewel with a black butterfly on it. She stood tall, but walked gracefully; her eyes looked intently at Luna, but her brow was soft and relaxed. She gave off an aura of beauty, power, intelligence, authority, and compassion.

Luna hastily attempted to get up, but the first woman's arms were still holding on to her. Instead, she merely nodded her head and said, "Good evening, Lady Vaire."

Vaire shook her head. "I wish it were, my child, but we are risking much by speaking with you like this. Remember, our place is to watch and guide, to protect the Balance of Law and Chaos, not to solve all the problems of the mortal worlds**(5)**." As she spoke this last line, her eyes were not fixed on Luna, but on the first woman. The victim of the gaze ducked her head a little and blushed.

"She's right, I'm sad to say," she said to Luna. "We can aid in the battle against _him_ and his servants from . . . the Void, but we cannot do battle in the mortal realm, not unless one of your enemies is foolish enough to try to engage one of _us _in direct confrontation."

Luna chuckled a little. "Forgive me, Lady Nienna, but I think you may be underestimating Voldemort's ego."

The kimono wearer snorted. "Please, I have seen infants enter my realm with less fear of death than that fool. It is always the same, no matter how many times he is reborn he is always arrogant, power-hungry, and utterly afraid of dying**(6)."**

Luna looked at her and spoke slowly, "If I ever needed proof of how terrible he is, hearing you condemn him . . ."

"She _is _capable of it," Vaire said. "Her anger is even slower to arouse than Orome's, but it can be done. I would pity him, but I know that anyone who can arouse such feelings does not deserve pity." They were all silent for a moment before she spoke again. "We risk overstepping our place, but know this, my child, the one who now calls himself 'Voldemort' is becoming aware of the link he shares with your soulmate. I would suggest that Harry relearn the art of warding his dreams quickly. Very quickly."

Luna nodded. The world around her began to fade. The starlight and the background were blurring. The fox disappeared. When she turned to Nienna, however, Luna saw that the woman was smiling again, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Before you go, dear," she said. "I almost forgot to tell you, your mother sends her love, as do Harry's parents." She held Luna's hand tightly and said, "They're very proud of you, and they believe in you. They always will."

Luna's eyes filled up with tears again, and before she left she cried, "Thank you, My Ladies! Tell them we love them too! And we will win!" Before she woke up, Luna saw the Vala, the true goddess, of dreams and the Queen of the Dead nod in accent to her wish**(7)**.

* * *

Well, that was another lore-heavy episode. I appologize if anyone was annoyed by my chaning POV. Originally, I wanted this whole story to be in Harry's POV, but it came to the point where that untenable. I could have put this off if I had turned the dream sequence into a flashback between Harry and Luna, but that was only delaying the inevitable. Additionally, I don't feel that would have gone with the tone of the preceding paragraph. Besides, while I could skirt around to the whole "switching-POV-thing," I don't think I could do without putting off elements I really want to introduce, lessing the emotional tension, and creating a convoluted mess (potentially involving an exposition dump somewhere down the line-_shudder). _

Don't worry, I won't be switching back and forth every other page break (at least, I don't think so). This will still be mostly focused on Harry, but not entirely. Especially, I think in the next chapter (where, hopefully, I'll be able to reveal who the mysterious spy was from the last chapter).

**Footnotes: Be warned, some of this will contain information which will eventually appear in the first chapter of the World Tree guide book. I will mark spoilers *{Like This}*.**

**(1) **"The Pattern" is another reference to _The Wheel of Time _series, basically the Wheel weaves the lives of people into a Pattern (Fate, basically). ***{**While this is sort of how the Wheel works in the World Tree universe/multiverse, it's not totally acurate. Stephen King's concept of _Ka, _is more akin to what I had in mind. People do have a certain degree of free is more akin to how I believe the real world works, anyway.**}***

If you're wondering while Luna talks about "the books that are out already," remember this is happening in 1996. The fourth book, _Wizard and Glass_ won't be for another year, and the next last three books won't come out until 2003. As of 2012, the eighth book, _The Wind Through the Keyhole, _was published, continuing the series after everyone (including King himself) thought the series was complete.

Fun fact, I've already figured out that's kind of what's happening here. I originally thought _The World Tree _was just one series of stories, but there's so much potential in this world (or group of worlds) that I came to the conclusion that I am going to have to write a few spin-offs after the core series is finished. I suppose that a little hubrus, considering I'm not half-way done with the first book yet, and the series is projected to have at least nine books (yeah, I've actually done a

Another fun fact, my first Harry Potter fanfic was _Harry Potter and Harry Potter,_ a bizarre mash up of _Harry Potter,_ _The Dark Tower,_ and the _Stargate _franchise. I had high hopes for it, but it had a lot of problems, and, as I went back to revise it, I lost interest as well as a sense of where things were going or what I was supposed to do to fix my mistakes. So, its abandoned. Eventually, I'll stick the origional chapters (as King himself once said), "warts and all" back up. Maybe someday I'll return to it, or let someone else adopt the convoluted mess I've spawned. Can't really say for sure now.

**(2) **If you've guessed, yes, this is Telperion, the silver Tree from J.R.R. Tolkien's _The Silmarillion._ Or, at least, it's the closest facsimile I could create.

**(3) **I don't think this is a spoiler, considering how some of you have already guessed who this is, but this lady was inspired, a great deal so, in fact, by Niel Gaiman's Death of the Endless, one of the coolest characters ever. Also, the line about her skin and hair is a lift from classic _Snow White, _of course, Snow's lips were red as blood, but what you gonna do?

**(4) **This is another thing I stole from _The Wheel of Time. _Unfortunately, I can't talk about it without putting up the spoiler warning ***{**Basically, Tarmon Gai'don is the Last Battle, the final fight to determine the Fate of the world. See why I made this a spoiler?**}***

**(5) **This is something I stole from Michael Moorcock's fantasy and science fiction stories. Basically, Law and Chaos are two opposing forces in the multiverse who constantly fight for dominance, but, if one were to achieve dominance, it would result in either universal formlessness (Chaos) or universal stagnation (Law), thus there must be a force of Balance between them to ensure neither outcome occurs. You'll have to wait to see what kind of spin I put on this idea.

**(6) **Fair warning, this may not strictly be true. Well, it will be true in these stories, but if you've got any ideas about who Voldemort's past lives were (and they _will_ come up in this story), don't let this deter you if it contradicts what you know about them.

**(7) **Okay this whole thing may qualify as a spoiler. ***{**Basically, the gods of this multiverse-as in, not just Harry's Earth but all Earths, even if each individual one has its own gods (hint, hint)-are based on the Valar of J.R.R. Tolkien's _The Silmarillion. _Their not exact copies, for one thing, there will only be nine gods in the _World Tree_ setting, and they will have certain differences from their literary counterparts. For example, the ruler of the dead in Tolkien's world is male. You'll find out who these people are in the first chapter of the _World Tree_ guide book.**}***


	6. Chapter 6: Passions Abound

**Author's Notes: **Sorry this took so long. OK, IMPORTANT NOTE, PLEASE DO NOT SKIP! Do to the rules of , rules which they are now starting to enforce, I edited out the lemon in this chapter. I am posting an uncesnsored version of this fic on Ficwad. There will be a link on my Author's Page or you can find it yourself.

Part of me is annoyed about this, if lemons offend people they can just choose not to read them, but the administrators run the site, so they get to make the rules. I respect those who choose to fight for their creative freedom, but this story just means too much to me to jeopardize over a little thing when I can easily get around it.

A reader (I won't say who) pointed out to me in a private message that I might be using things from the works of the copyright-happy Terry Goodkind. While this is unintentional (I've never even read any of Mr. Goodkind's works, cry you pardon) I would appreciate it if someone could point anything out to me that seems like something he might be able to call me out over. No disrespect, I just don't want to lose this piece.

P.S. I've also published the first chapter of that guidebook I was talking about, _The Book of Ae. _It's filed un "Misc. Crossovers." I know there's a chance no one will read it because, by virtue of what it is, there are some spoilers in it, but I'm just telling you it's there, since it's the closest thing this series ahs to a fan wiki.

**Patrick Nakasone:** Yeah, Conan was a slave, but most of the time, he didn't seem particularly sympathetic towards them; slavery was a part of the world in people's minds. Unlikeable to us, but the sad truth.

**Man of Constant Sorrow: **Thank you very much.

**Final Note: **I would like to close by comparing my thoughts about this story, my other current project-_Son of a Snake-_with Stephen King's thoughts about his own _Dark Tower _series and _The Stand. __The Dark Tower _was King's favorite, he called it his _Magnum Opus, _but it was never as popular as _The Stand. _Likewise, _The World Tree _is my favorite project, on this site anyhow. But, I can tell that it's nowhere near as popular as _Son of a Snake _is. The reason I think is that _World Tree _is a long, complicated epic, whereas _Snake _is a more light-hearted thing I only wrote for fun, and everyone reads for fun. I don't begrudge it that; reading, I've always felt, is primarily an act of pleasure.

I don't particularly know why I'm writing this-you're probably wondering the same thing. I think its mostly because it's kind of depressing that something I love so much hasn't been loved by so many others. But, like King, I take comfort in the fact that people _do _love it, some of them passionately.

So, for those of you who love this story half as much as I do, thank you, and continue to enjoy.

* * *

**The Gryffindor Dormitories; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 11, 1995; 7:34 a.m.(1)**

Harry rolled over in his bed, trying to move his eyes away from the windows. He reached for his watch and dragged it und his blankets. At just past 7:30 in the morning, it was too early considering he hadn't gone to sleep until . . . _six hours ago, _he thought, then corrected himself. He had gotten into bed at 1:30, but hadn't gone to sleep for perhaps another half an hour. Sadly, that still counted as one of his longer rest periods.

"_Urrgh," _he grunted as he forced himself to sit up. Turning his head, his eyes shot open, and he had to slap his cheeks to make certain he wasn't dreaming. Ron's bed was empty; Ron was up _before _him. _When was the last time I saw that? _he honestly wondered to himself.

Shrugging, Harry got out of bed and pulled on a Mrs. Weasley sweater. It was already starting to get cold; winter was coming early this year. Professor Trelawney had already given the forecast for a new ice age in his last Divination class.

It was Saturday, no classes, although Harry still had his evening torture sessions with Professor Umbrage. So, first some breakfast, then . . . _Figure that out later, _he decided, as his stomach growled. He grabbed his wand and performed a quick shaving spell, then donned his robes and headed down to the Great Hall.

Harry trudged down the stairs from the Gryffindor Tower to the Great Hall. He was just about to the doors when he heard, "Well, well, if it isn't Hogwarts' resident nutter."

Harry stifled the urge to groan as he turned around. The "observation" was spoken in a nasal, female voice that he knew all too well. It was Pansy Parkinson, all five, pugged-faced, gold-digging feet of her. She wasn't with Malfoy and his thugs for once, but had brought her own pack with her. There was Millicent Bulstrode (taller than Pansy but even less attractive), a girl with glasses whose name Harry had never learned in four years, Tracey Davis (who _was _pretty but looked slightly depressed), along with Daphne and her little sister, Astoria Greengrass. Harry frowned. During Potions last Friday, she had sounded like she had liked him, maybe even wanted to be friends, yet she was still with this group, still looking like the proper Ice Queen. Her sister wasn't so cold, though; the poor girl was clinging to Daphne was a drowning woman would cling to a life-preserver.**(2)**

"Well," Pansy sneered, "got anything to say for yourself, Potter?"

"Bet he can't remember the words," the glasses wearing girl snarked. She laughed at that, and so did Pansy and Bulstrode. The others though, weren't. Tracey sighed and shook her head, and Daphne winced, even backed up a step. Astoria was even more dramatic; she looked up at her sister, gapping, then at the other girls, then back at her sister.

Harry sighed, with everything else that going on, he did _not _need this, too. He thought of a dozen responses, ranging from, "Where's your girlfriend, Pansy, Draco?" to the good-old-fashioned "Shove it, Parkinson!" But, all of them felt like they took too much energy, energy he didn't have to spare this morning. So, instead, he stepped back, held his arms out towards the door, and said, "Ladies first." He smiled slightly as he said it.

Pansy's jaw dropped. "Wha-what?" she stuttered.

Harry's small smile widened just a bit. "I said, 'Ladies first," he repeated, enunciating his words.

Pansy couldn't even say anything at all this time. Bulstrode and the girl whose name still eluded Harry had yet to blink. Tracey _was _blinking but not much else. Little Astoria's eyes were wide too, and he thought he saw her mouth the word "Wow." Daphne was perhaps the most composed, she blinked twice, then silently nodded her head, her ice mask cracking just enough for her mouth to twitched upwards ever so slightly.

"Fine, then!" Pansy said and marched through the doors; Bulstrode and Glasses paused for a moment, then stumbled after her.

The others waited another moment, then started after then . . . then froze when Astoria stopped and said, "Thank you, sir, I'm sorry for what they said to you!"

Harry's eyes bugged out like Bulstrode's and Glasses' had only moments before. Tracey's didn't widen quite so much but she was staring at the young girl in disbelief. Daphne's ice mask disappeared completely; she groaned out loud and hid her face in her free hand. She heaved a deep breath, then mouthed two words. Harry recognized them as _ten, nine . . ._

Astoria, the poor, innocent girl, looked around at them, frowning a little. She opened her mouth, probably to ask what was going on when Daphne finally spoke, "Tracey, could you please tell Pansy that Story needs to use the loo."

Astoria blinked. "What?"

Daphne looked down at her sister. "You need to use the loo—right now, _very _urgently." Then, she turned to her friend. "Tracey . . . please?"

"All right," Tracey nodded, then walked through the doorway into the Great Hall.

Daphne then dragged her sister by the hand back away from the doorway. At this point, Harry's inner Samaritan kicked into action, and he followed after them. Daphne, however, swiftly turned on him. Unlike that afternoon in Double Potions, she was scowling at him worse than Malfoy ever had; it was the kind of look Hermione reserved for Ron when he was trying to shirk homework. She was livid, and her lips were suffering under her teeth. "Haven't you done enough already, Potter?"

Harry backed up a step. Something like a shard of glass shot through his heart. Astoria, however, looked at her sister in shock and cried, "Daphne! How could you? He was just being nice to us! What's wrong with you? Last night you couldn't stop talking-"

"Hush!" Daphne said, glaring lightly at her sister. Astoria looked back, then bowed her head. Daphne sighed, no longer glaring. "I'm sorry, Story. I'm just worked up right now." She gently squeezed her sister's hand. Astoria looked up at her and nodded, then embraced her. Daphne wrapped her free arm around her little sister's body. Harry felt a little out of place at the moment, so he turned to leave, but Daphne's hand shot out and grabbed his. He stopped, and they stared at each other for a moment. Harry felt his cheeks warm up a little; Daphne's were still somewhat red, too, but he wasn't going to try to guess why. "Potter," she started, no longer in possession of her usual composure. "I would like to apologize to you as well . . ." She shook her head. "No, I'm _sorry_; you handled yourself brilliantly back there, and seeing me drag my sister away must not have looked right."

"Um, that's all right, Daphne," he said, trying to recover from the emotional whiplash. "But, what did your sister do that was so wrong?"

Daphne looked at him oddly. "You really don't know, do you?" When Harry shook his head, she sighed and said, "Potter, Slytherin House is . . . not the easiest House to live in. We're the House of Ambition, so there's always been a lot of plotting, but, after the last war, the other Houses liked us less and less—particularly Gryffindor." Harry winced at this. "So," she continued, "we responded by becoming more and more insular, and more anti-Gryffindor." She paused for a moment, then continued. "Astoria is new this year, so she hasn't learned these things yet-"

"But I didn't see her at the Sorting," Harry protested.

Daphne grimaced. "That's because she's twelve. She should have started last year, but she came down with Dragon Pox and was kept home all year." Here, she squeezed her sister's hand a little. Astoria smiled up at her big sister. "However, the school has a rule against publicly sorting non-First Years, so Astoria was Sorted in private."

"Why wasn't she just put with the First Years if she didn't get to go last year?" Harry asked.

Daphne sniffed a little. "That would have implied that she had to take the year again," she replied. Harry nodded, understanding. "I've been trying to get Astoria acclimated to the school, but . . ."

"I don't like it," Astoria said. "Pansy and those other girls are mean. Well, Tracy's nice, but Bullfrog and Stephanie aren't, and they want me to be mean, too."

Daphne shook her head. "I don't like it either, Story, or them," she said, "but it's the way things are."

"But . . ." Harry struggled, "why do you hang out with them?"

Daphne looked at him curiously, then said, "It's easier that way. Pansy sought me out as a 'friend' because of my family's wealth and connections. I went along with it because it seemed easier at the time." Her cheeks became a light pink. "I'm not very proud of it, but there isn't really anything I can do now but wait for graduation and then, hopefully, disappear from her life forever."

Harry shuffled a little. "I know what that's like," he muttered. At Daphne's questioning look, he blushed and said, "A-anyway, I'm sorry for causing you so much trouble; I'll try to stay out of your way from now on." He turned to leave.

"Potter!" Daphne called. Harry stopped and turned around. Daphne's face was terribly red now. _"I'm _sorry," she said. "I . . . I really would like to be your friend."

Harry stood frozen for a moment, ironic as his neck was now getting very hot and he was fighting the urge to fidget. Finally, he replied, "Well, I guess we'll just see how it works out then." Then, he turned and beat a hasty retreat into the Great Hall.

Daphne watched him go, relief flooding through her veins even as her heart ached. Then, Astoria spoke, "I think you should have kissed him, Daph."

**The Black Lake; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 11, 1995; 3:27 p.m.**

"Nice one, Hermione!" Harry called.

"Thank you," she said, pushing a strand of hair out her face. The trio was taking a break from homework (well, Harry and Ron were; between last night and this morning, Hermione was finished). Ron had apparently gotten out of whatever funk he was in and had joined them hanging out around the Black Lake, skipping stones and trash talking Umbrage.

"Do you think Hagrid still keeps that three-headed monster on the third floor?" Ron asked, picking up a stone. "If we could lure her in there . . ."

"Ronald!" Hermione chastised. "We are _not _going to feed her to a giant dog, no matter how foul and lithesome-"

"Yeah," Ron said, tossing the stone. It skipped twice. "But, it's fun to think about, isn't it?"

Harry laughed, picking up a stone of his own. It _was _fun to think about. More importantly, it was fun to just be with his friends again, to pretend that he was actually _normal._

"Hello, Harry," Luna said, cheerfully.

Harry dropped the stone and spun around. _"Luna!" _he cried. Once again, she had snuck up on him without making a sound. Ron and Hermione were looking at her just as wide-eyed as he was. Taking a few deep breaths, Harry steadied himself. "How are you?" he asked.

"Harry . . ." she started. It was then that Harry noticed that her smile seemed smaller than usual, and the light wasn't as strong in her grey eyes.**(3)** She pushed a strand out of her face and licked her lips before she spoke again. "I . . . need to talk to you." She looked at Hermione and Ron. "It's very important."

Harry frowned a little. "Sure," he said. When she looked at his friends again, a little lightbulb went off in the young Dragon's head. "Oh, right! Eh . . ." Harry turned back to his friends. "Sorry, it this won't take long."

Ron frowned. _"Awww, C'mon, _Harry! What's so important about Loon . . ."

Harry cut him off. "I promise, I'll be back, soon," he said firmly. "Please, Ron, Hermione," he said, turning to his other love interest. "Please . . . understand. I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't important."

Ron opened his mouth to protest some more, but Hermione beat him to it. "All right, Harry," she said quietly. "See you later."

Ron looked at her, then back at Harry and huff-ed, "Yeah, fine. Talk about whatever you want to." He picked up another stone and tossed it. It skipped three times this time.

Harry nodded to them. "Thanks. Thank you." Turning back to Luna, he asked, "Let's go." Then, he offered his hand to her, and, when she took it, led her away.

The remaining two watched them walk off, standing silently for a moment. Ron picked up another stone when Hermione spoke. ". . . we should get back to our homework," she said, turning and walking back to the castle.

"What?" Ron cried, "but Hermione . . . just 'cause Harry's gone . . . we don't have to . . ." but, it was no use; either she couldn't hear him, or she was ignoring him. Either way, Hermione kept walking without responding, with her arms wrapped around her to fend off the cold.

Ron looked around. Then scowled and threw the stone into the Lake. It sank with a _SPLASH! _He shoved his hands in his pockets. Then, he too walked away.

**Another Spot on The Black Lake; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 11, 1995; 3:30 p.m.**

Harry and Luna walked to the Eastern side of the Lake. This spot was a little more concealed from prying eyes; it wasn't a part of the Dark Forest proper and plenty of people explored this little thicket, but the small collection of trees and foliage provided some cover for their conversation. The dead leaves on the ground were useful, too; they'd alert the teen spellcasters if anyone was coming their way.

Luna didn't say a word as they walked, and Harry didn't press her. They picked their way through the trees, climbing over large rocks, stepping over a fallen log, balancing on moss-covered roots. Finally, they came to a clearing. Luna entered it first; she sat down on a small stone. Harry sat down beside her. He was aware of how small the space was . . . and just how close they were.

Harry wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her closer. Bending his head a little, he took a deep breath of her hair. Luna smelled like no one else, a unique mixture of flowers and citrus that was so utterly _her._

She sighed in his embrace. "Harry . . . _I _had a dream last night," she said.

Harry's eyebrows jumped up in surprise, but he nodded. "What happened?" he asked, holding her a little tighter.

"I really don't know where to start," she replied. ". . . Harry, how much do you remember about the . . . nature of the universe?"

"Um . . . what?" he asked.

Luna giggled a little. "I guess not much?"

"Eh . . . no," he said, smiling just a little.

"Do you remember the Creator?" Luna asked. "The One who created the Universe and set the Wheel of Time to weave the souls of every living thing into the Pattern?"

Harry shifted a little. "Yeah, kind of. What of it?" Harry's religious education had been somewhat stunted by the Dursleys—not particularly spiritual themselves and who would have gladly seen his soul burn forever if given the opportunity—but he had always believed in God, more or less. Of course, believing was one thing; having proof of what you believed in shoved right in your face was a quite another, and he had the feeling _that_ was what was coming next.

"Well," Luna said, continuing. "What you probably don't remember is that when He made the world and the Wheel, the Creator also created nine lesser gods, the Valar to ensure the Pattern turned out like it was supposed to. They are Manwe, god of air; Varda, goddess of light; Ulmo, god of rivers and oceans; Aule, god of smiths; Yavanna, goddess of fertility; Orome, god of warfare and hunting; Vana, goddess of Spring; Vaire, goddess of dreams; and Nienna, goddess of death . . . Harry," she said, turning to look him straight in the eyes, "Nienna and Vaire visited me in my dreams last night."

Harry's eyes exploded open while his brain turned to mush trying to process what he'd just heard. A hundred million ideas exploded in his head, burning up the mush.

". . . Harry?" Luna whispered, her voice so soft he could barely hear it. "Harry, do . . . do you believe me?" she asked, her own eyes wide now. If he didn't . . . if he thought she was crazy just like everyone else did . . .

"That's . . . hard to believe, Luna," he forced out. When her eyes began to water, however, his arms tightened and drew her closer. "But, then . . . everything about this is pretty hard to believe, isn't it?" he said, his mouth curving into a gentle smile.

Luna nodded and buried her face into his chest, weeping softly. _He believes me. He actually believes me! _Harry let her cry, holding her with one hand, stoking her hair with the other. Finally, when she was done, he spoke again. "So . . . what did . . . _they _tell you?"

"A lot," she replied. After a moment, she continued. "You need to relearn Channeling, Harry, and you need to do it quickly. If you don't start warding your dreams soon . . . _he'll _start seeing them."

Harry looked at her blankly for a moment, before it clicked in his head. "Voldemort?" he asked. She nodded. _"Hhhhhuuuhhhh," _he groaned. To a certain degree, the young wizard wasn't surprised. He was occasionally dreaming about Voldemort; it only made sense that the snake-faced creep could look into his mind as well. Harry looked down at the girl in his arms and decided he did _not _like that. "OK," he said, "How?"

Luna frowned, "I think we're on our own for that."

Harry groaned again. _Why can't it ever be easy?_

Luna waited until he was done before she spoke again. "There's something else, Harry, something worse."

Harry made eye-contact with his beloved again. "Worse than Voldemort?" he asked.

Luna nodded. "Much worse . . . Tarmon Gai'don."

Harry sucked in his breath. "The Last Battle," he breathed.

"Of this Age," Luna confirmed. "I don't know when precisely it's coming, but I do know that it's apparently a few years, possibly even a decade or so, away, thankfully. But, it _is _coming, and we _have _to be ready for . . . everything."

Harry nodded mutely_. Tarmon Gai'don. _He had memories of it, fleeting, vague memories, but it _had_ shown up in his dreams . . . and what he'd seen was enough to frighten him. "Isn't Voldemort enough?" he whispered, tears blurring his vision. "Why me . . . Why us?" Why was he doomed to never live a life of peace?"

Now, Luna was the one to hug _him _more tightly, turning around to do so. "I don't know Harry. It's a part of who and what he are . . . I don't know why, but . . ." She swallowed and took his face in her hands, using her thumbs to wipe away his tears. "I do know that I would rather it happen to us than to our children or grandchildren. Every time." Then, she kissed him.

Harry blushed a little, both at the intensity of her kiss and . . . "Luna . . ." he choked out when she pulled back to breath. "Isn't that . . . Um . . ."

"A little far ahead, I supposed," she said, smiling again. Ironically, even as she said this, he hands were working on his waist, pulling up his shirt.

"_Ghaaah! Luna!" _Harry cried, his face instantly darkening by three shades of red. He pushed her back a little bit. "We can't . . . We shouldn't!"

Luna pouted. "Why not?"

"We're not married!"

"We've _been _ married, Harry," she countered.

"We've also been siblings," Harry countered. Luna waved her hand in dismissal. "Besides," he continued, "I thought we just agreed to wait before we had children!"

Luna giggled a little. "Don't worry, Harry; I'm on birth-control potion," she said as she resumed her task. She managed to get her beloved's shirt totally untucked when he grabbed her wrists.

"_We could be seen!" he hissed._

Luna snorted. "Please, Harry, do you think I would have brought you here to talk about something this important if I wasn't certain it was safe. I thought you learned in your last life," she said, straightening and looking him dead I the eye, "that I don't like it when you insult my intelligence."

Harry cringed; that move _had _gotten Rand into trouble. Still, he pressed on. "We're still not married, Luna, not in _this _life."

Luna frowned at him, then, smiled. She shifted a little, drawing her hands out of his hands. Then, she took his hands in her own. "Harry ," she said, again looking him in the eye, "Do you accept me and promise to stand by me, to love me, for richer or poorer, for better," her breath hitched just a little," or worse, in good times and in bad times, in sickness and health, in war and peace, for as long as we both shall live?" her hands tightened around his as she finished.

"Of course," Harry blurted, then blushed, and, knowing what she wanted, replied, "Yes, I do." Instantly Harry felt something within him and surrounding him changed. It was as if the air was charged with static and his insides where full of fire, yet not burned.

"Harry," Luna whispered, bringing him back to reality. ". . .You, you need to ask me now . . ."

Harry nodded without hesitation. "Luna Lovegood," he intoned, placing his hands in her own. "Harry ," she said, again looking him in the eye, "Do you accept me and promise to stand by me, for richer or poorer, for better or worse . . . in good times and in bad times, in sickness and health, in war and peace, for as long as we both shall live?"

"I do," she whispered and leaned forward to kiss him. Now, the fire within Harry was released, surging out and around him, while the air sang with power. For a moment, Harry could feel the Earth spinning beneath him, feel the slightest breeze of air, even feel the passage fo time itself . . . And, then it was over, and harry was left alone in the clearing. . . alone with his new . . .

"Luna," he asked, slowly, "did we just . . .?"

Luna smile at him. "We can have a big, fancy wedding later, if you want , Harry. But, there are scrolls in Gringotts and the Ministry listing us as a couple now. Now," she said, grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt, "stop complaining and make love to your blushing bride."**(4)**

This time, Harry didn't stop her as she yanked his shirt over his head.

**LemonLemonLemonLemonLemonLemonLemonLemonLemonLemon LemonLemonLemon**

**The Gryffindor Dormitories; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 11, 1995; 3:58 p.m.**

"_Hrrrmmph!" _Ron grunted as he dropped into a chair. Aside from him, the only people in the Commonroom were Ginny and a pair of First-Years who left the room as quickly as they could.

"What is your problem?" Ginny growled from the table where she was apparently working on her homework.

"Nothing!" Ron spat.

"Come off it, Ron. What's eating you? The season's over, so it's not the Cannons."

Ron didn't rise to the implied snipe. He just grumbled something.

"What was that?" Ginny asked, sounding incredibly like their mother . . . which is probably why Ron answred immediately.

"Hermione's crushing on Harry," he sulked.

"What," Ginny asked, turning to face him now.

"Hermione's crushing on Harry," he said again. "Why does he get everything, fame, money, can't he just let me have one thing-just _one thing—_for myself?"

Ginny gripped her quill tightly, but chose not to chastise her brother for calling a girl a "thing." She also ignored the fact that Harry was an orphan who lived with abusive relatives. Ron was a child; he responded best to things he wanted to hear. "Well, I wouldn't worry about it," she said. "Harry's already dating _Luna Lovegood."_

Ron, of course, didn't hear the tone his sister used when speaking her former friend. "He's what?"

" . . .I saw them kissing the other day," Ginny sighed turning back to her book.

"'Kissing?'" Ron asked, almost salivating.

"Full on snogging," Ginny replied, staring at her book. "I'm . . . _happy _for them," she said, not sounding happy at all.

But, Ron missed that, too. He stopped listening after Ginny had said "snogging." The wheels in his head were turning, slowly but surely. Then, grinning in a way that Harry and Hermione had never seen, he got up and walked out of the Commonroom.

Ginny was too busy trying to keep from crying to notice.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Wow, not may footnotes this time, yeah! Anyhow, sorry if Astoria seems too young or something. I wanted to do her as innocent, then realized I had to "youthen" her back to a point where she wouldn't know all this House politics stuff, but I didn't want to make her _too _young. Thus, she missed last year. We'll find out more about the Greengrass family next time (you can try to guess how they got their wealth, but I almost guarantee you won't, _heh, heh_).

**Footnotes:**

**(1) **Is it wrong to write about young people having sex on September 11. I know this is Britain, and it hasn't happened yet, but . . . eh. What are your thoughts?

**(2) **Rowling once wrote in a magazine article that Pansy hung out with all of these girls except Astoria, not that we ever saw her with anyone but Malfoy, but . . . Hope I've given a good explanation as to why Daphne would hang out with them. Rowling herself never came up with a name for the glasses-wearer, which is kind of weird since she went through all this trouble, but oh, well.

**(3) **I know, I called them blue in Chapter 4, but then I remembered that Luna's eyes are officially grey, so I went and changed it. Seriously, check Chapter 4, they're grey now.

**(4) **OK, I'm sorry if that annoyed folks. I can't say I'm the biggest fan of magical marriages-they seem a little _too_ convenient and over-used, but sometimes our heroes deserve a bit of convenience, don't you think? To those of you whose religious sensitivities I offended, my apologies.

To everyone else, well, _I'm _religious and a romantic, and I actually do believe in waiting (or, at least, only having sex in a committed relationship). So, this was kind of me covering my spiritual backside. Not that I condone minors getting married or having sex. As to the sex, well, let's face it folks, a lot of them do anyway, and we all want to see Harry and company do it ASAP (it's a major reason we read M-rated stories, anyhow) so we may as well own up to it.


	7. Chapter 7: Further Devlopments

**Author's Note: **Seven pages, seven pages on my word processor. Hopefully, this'll make up for the long wait. Additionally . . .

Iceflame55: I don't know that I ever will, but thank you. I'm actually touched that someone else is as enthusiastic about this crazy collection of words as I am.

Atmyer: Thank you.

Atmyer and ILikeComps: Yeah, Ron is often portrayed as an unlikeable creep. Although it always kind of annoyed me how he's often portrayed as some sort of James Bond underling with no redeeming qualities (seriously, it boggles my mind how over the top some writers go with making Ron, Ginny, Mrs. Weasley, and Dumbledore evil).

PennyisWise: Thank you.

Brainiac2000: Well, I won't say whether your idea is right or wrong, although I will admit to having considered it. Unfortunately, though, I don't have the most detailed outline ever (unlike, say, Jim Butcher, who outlined the entirety of _The Dresdend Files _when he was still in college or grad school-except his Harry's lovelife). Don't worry I have a plan. Part of which, you'll see in the finale of this "Book" (book tease, hehe) the rest you'll see in coming stories. All I'll say up front is, to minimize the time needed to write these things (and thus, time I could stop and decide to quite writing them or could potentially forget what's going on), I'll be writing the next four "Books" in pairs. So, Books 2 and 3 will be released together, presumably some time next year _(groans), _and the events inside of them will occur simultaneously. Likewise with Books 4 and 5. No idea about the ones following that, though.

Final Note: I have issued my first story challenge: _Mass Effect _crossover with _Grimm!_ The rules are on my author's page and in the short little prompt I made called "Grimm Effect-Example)!

Right, on with the story.

* * *

**The Black Lake; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 11, 1995; 5:30 p.m.**

"_Urf," _Harry groaned rolling over, wondering why his bed was so lumpy . . . and why he had no sheets . . . and why he was sleeping naked . . .

"Wake up, Sleepy Snorlack," a musical voice said next to him.

Harry swiveled around. Luna lay next to him, smiling . . . and totally naked. His face heated up as he recalled what they had just did . . . _all _of it.

"You look very nice with a blush, Harry," Luna said, pushing herself up on her hand, "but, I would be very disappointed if this is how you react afterwards every time we make love, my husband."

Harry's chest heaved. Husband. He was fifteen years old, and he was married. Part of him was shivering under the implications, but that part was buried beneath a mountain of immeasurable joy. He was married; he had a family and was going to spend the rest of his bizarre and, frankly, dangerous life with this beautiful, wonderful girl. He was just too happy to be scared.

"I'm sorry, my wife," he said, smiling. He reached out and pulled her close to him, then leaned down and kissed Luna. It was gentle, like a butterfly, but, after their intense mating, it was perfect.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry," she replied after he pulled away. "I'm not your wife, Harry."

"Wha-what?" Harry cried, his brain scrambling like an egg dropped on the ground.

"Don't worry, Harry," she said, smiling. Honestly, Luna looked as though she was about to break out into laughter. "We're married, but I'm your _consort, _not your wife."

"I thought you had to be married to the queen to be a consort," Harry said, trying to piece his brain back together. For some reason, he was reminded of that old rhyme his preschool had taught him, _"All the King's horses and all the King's men/couldn't put Humpty together again."_

"Well, that's a special case," Luna said. "Basically, I'm 'Ms. Lovegood' now instead of 'Mrs. Potter,' and my children will be Lovegoods. There's plenty of social and political implications, but that's what's important."

"How come you're not Mrs. Potter?" Harry asked.

"It's in the wording of the ritual," Luna said. "I chose to be your consort so I could save my family from disappearing. I'm sure some of our other soulmates will do the same."

"'_Our_ soulmates?'" Harry asked.

"Of course," Luna nodded. "We're always together, so we're all soulmates." She closed her eyes and smiled a little. "I wonder if this means they'll be my wives, consorts, and concubines, too." **(1)** Seeing her husband blushing, Luna laughed. "Oh, Harry, you're not still embarrassed about that are you?"

"Sorry, Luna," he said. "It's just . . . most people don't have multiple wives."

"Yes, but, thankfully, we're not most people," she replied with a smile.

"No, I guess, we're not," Harry said. "Luna," he asked, "Do you . . . Do you have an idea of who the others are, besides Hermione?" Asking his wife—_consort—_who his other lovers-to-be were was . . . something else under the "we're not most people" category.

"Well . . ." Luna replied, sitting up now, "It's hard to see, but you've dreamed of the Patil twins, Padma and Parvati, right?" Harry nodded. "Yes," Luna nodded herself, "they're two of them, and then there's Daphne . . . that's ironic, I think."

"What?" Harry asked.

"Well," Luna said, "have you talked to her much?"

"Er . . . no," Harry said. "I mean I've spoken to her recently, but not much, and I botched the conversation we had earlier this morning pretty badly . . ."

"Did she want to kill you?" Luna asked serenely.

"She looked like it," Harry dead-panned. Why was Luna treating that like it was a good sign?

"I believe Aviendha wanted to kill Rand once, of course that was after he slept with her, not because of an argument," the blond witch continued.**(2)**

"_Aviendha?" _Harry cried. _"Daphne_ is _Aviendha?"_

Luna shrugged. "I viewed them once; I saw Daphne in the corridor, and then I saw Aviendha walking in her place. I'm pretty sure that means Daphne is Aviendha's reincarnation."

"But, Aviendha was a warrior from a desert tribe," Harry said. "Daphne, she's not fat or anything, but . . ."

"But, she doesn't look like a warrior?" Luna completed. She shook her head. "Harry, try to remember as much of Aviendha as you can. I know it's difficult, but _try . . . _Aviendha was a warrior, yes, but that wasn't the sum of her character. She was brave and honorable: loyal to her people's beliefs, but also stubborn and full of passion she kept concealed behind her discipline. Does Daphne have any of these traits?"

Harry thought. Daphne had taken the easy way out avoiding confrontation with the other Slytherins, but she had been ashamed of it. She was proud, but not arrogant like Pansy and her other "friends"—except, maybe Tracey. She knew about the history of the rivalry between Slytherin and the other Houses instead of treating it as though it had always been that way like most everyone else seemed to; Harry didn't know whether or not that qualified as being "loyal to her people's beliefs," but it was a step in the right direction.

And then there were her eyes . . . They weren't the same color as Aviendha's but they held the same look: pride and strength. Those eyes were like campfires waiting for a breeze to pick up and allow them to spread into wildfires. If that didn't prove she had passion concealed by discipline, nothing would. Daphne may not have been trained to fight, but she was a warrior; she was Aviendha.

"She was Vanessa, too. Krell's wife, right?" he asked.

Luna nodded. "Yes, and Hermione's mother then, though I hope _those _feelings aren't lingering . . ." The last part was spoken quietly, almost introspection. Harry decided against asking what she meant and asked another question.

"Luna, why did you call recognizing Daphne, Padma, and Parvati 'ironic?'"

"Oh, you don't remember?" she promptly replied. Without waiting she continued, "Aviendha had twin boys and twin girls, remember. Padma and Parvati are those girls: Marinna and Padra reborn."**(3)**

"Aviendha's daughters?" Harry wondered. When Luna nodded, he added, "_my _daughters?"

Luna frowned. "Well, in another life, yes."

"So, you're suggesting I should _marry _my _daughters?" _Harry asked.

"Harry," Luna said, "do you think of Hermione as your daughter?"

"What?" Harry asked.

"She was your daughter in your first lives," Luna said, "and, I was your sister in your second life; is that how you see me now?"

"Er, well, no," Harry replied. It was more or less impossible to deny that after what they had just done.

"Then why are you worried about the twins?" she pressed. "Harry, stop worrying about what we've been what we'll be in our next lives and start worrying about _this _one." She leaned forward and kissed him again. "I love you Harry, not as my brother but as my husband, and Padma and Parvati, will do the same, and so will Daphne and Hermione. I promise."**(4)**

Harry sighed. "How do you do it, Luna? How can you always turn me on my head like this?"

"It's a woman's job to tell her man off when he's being silly," Luna replied. "That's what my mother taught me."

Harry smiled. "I won't argue. So," he said with a slight grimace, "I'm going to have five . . . let's just call you all 'wives ' for now, maybe six," he concluded, thinking back to the blond woman who was hanging all over Krell.

"Actually, you're going to have eight 'wives'" Luna corrected, matter-of-factly.

"Eight wives?" Harry breathed.

Luna nodded. "Not a very special number, I suppose, but numbers aren't that important."

". . . No," Harry replied. "I suppose not." Mentally, the young man was still trying to wrap his head around the idea that he was apparently destined to have eight wives or consorts or whatever. He decided to deal with it later. "So," he said, returning to the original conversation, "do you have any idea who the other three are?"

Luna sighed. "I wish I did Harry, but, every time I try to remember them, their faces are hidden. I suppose this means its either the Creator's will or Vaire's that we should concentrate the on the four we know about now and then try to find the others. I'm sure things will all work out for the best."

"I hope so," Harry said. "I messed things up horribly last year with the twins at the Yule Ball, and Daphne might still be mad at me—anyway, I've only just gotten to really know her, and Hermione . . . _Hermione!" _Harry slapped himself hard in the face. "I promised we wouldn't take long; we must have gone for . . ." Harry looked up at the sky. He was no expert, but he could tell it was now well into the late afternoon, at least a couple of hours since he'd left his friends on the lakeshore.

Harry groaned. "I promised them I'd be back soon, and I—_Uhhhhhhhhh!" _

Luna gently placed her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Harry. I just got caught up in all these wonderful feelings you give me, and I . . ." Her eyes became watery as she continued.

Harry wrapped his arms around her. "It's not your fault, Luna. I should have been more careful with the time, but . . . Luna, that was . . . magic. It's dumb, I suppose, but that's the best I can come up with, and if I had the choice, I'd do it all again." He looked directly into her eyes, just as he had the day he'd discovered who she was and who they were. "That is, if you wanted to, Luna," he said, leaning closer. "My consort." And then, he kissed her.

**Hallway Outside Gryffindor Tower; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 9, 1995; 6:45 p.m.**

Harry climbed the steps to Gryffindor Tower. He and Luna had quickly dressed and then walked back to the Castle hand-in-hand. They had walked quickly but hadn't run. Harry didn't want to hurt his friends by taking even longer than he already was, but, at the same time, it felt right to go slow, to be aware of the feeling of Luna's hand in his own, hear the brisk way she stepped on the grass, smell her scent when the breeze blew their way . . .

They had parted at the Castle doors. As in love as they were, they had kept the presence of mind that their union was better off as a secret, at least for now. Luna had kissed him on the cheek and promised to meet up with him soon. Then, she'd skipped down the halls towards dinner. Harry'd followed after her a few minutes later. He hadn't seen either Hermione or Ron at the table, so he'd sat next to Neville, who looked like he was nearly finished.

"Hey, Harry," he'd remarked.

"Hi, Neville," Harry had responded as he helped himself to some roast beef.

"Where have you been?" the other boy asked, cautiously.

". . . with a friend," Harry had said, feeling his cheeks start to heat up. Partly, it was the memory of what he'd done with Luna; partly, it was from the feeling that, despite the fact that they'd mutually agreed to keep their relationship a secret, he felt he was cheapening their union somehow, disrespecting his beloved. She was so much more than his friend now.

Neville, however, had stared at him for a moment, then nodded and gone back to eating. Harry wasn't entirely sure what to make of that.

Despite being late, Harry ate more than he usually did, perhaps because of all the "exercise" he'd gotten that afternoon.

Now, he was simultaneously trying to reach his friends to apologize as quickly as possible, and desperately wishing he had more time to figure out what he was going to say to them. He certainly couldn't say that he'd just magically married Luna and . . . consummated their relationship. Hermione would go nuclear. That was discounting the whole "past lives, approaching apocalyptic war, polygamy" thing.

Thus, Harry did succeed at arriving at the Tower fairly quickly but still had no idea how he was going to explain his tardiness to his friends, aside from what he _couldn't _tell them. Sometimes, it was troubling how rarely Harry got to actually tell people the truth to people.

The Fat Lady's portrait swung open when Harry said the password. As he walked in, he saw that the commonroom was mostly empty, and that Hermione and Ron were sitting off to the side by themselves. As he approached them, Harry saw that Hermione looked . . . unhappy. Not angry, but . . . sad. She wasn't crying, but her face looked drained, somehow. There wasn't the life in her eyes she usually had when she was reading or plotting. It was not an expression Harry liked at all.

"'Mione?" he asked. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Harry," she said, tightly.

"Are you sur-"

"Yes, I'm sure," she cut him off, like a frost covered knife slicing a flower off its stalk.

Harry was taken aback by her tone, when Ron spoke up. "How was your date with Lovegood?" Harry spun around at Ron's voice . . . and at the face that it had originated from. He had seen Ron angry before, but not like this. Whereas Hermione seemed to be holding back tears, Ron looked like he wanted to belch venom at him. The shadows from the fire hid part of his face, but Harry could clearly make out the scowl and the eyes like coals. Looking down, Harry saw his friend's knuckles were white and red, in fact, his whole body looked like an angry dog waiting to spring. Harry had seen too many of those over the years—mostly, Aunt Marge's bulldogs—to miss the signs.

"Ginny," Hermione said. Harry turned back to her. "Ginny said she saw you two . . . _kissing _the other day." Hermione bit her lip. Harry wanted to believe that meant she hadn't intended to sound that angry.

"Oh," Harry said. "Hermione . . ." His brain scrambled for an explanation. The only thing he could come up with was _Don't deny it. _His relationship with his consort was still new and confusing, but there was one thing Harry was certain of: he loved Luna. He had loved her in different ways for three lifetimes already, and he _certainly _loved her now, and he would _not _deny that.

Problem was, he loved Hermione, too, and he was starting to worry that he might just lose her if he didn't come up with something fast.

Ironically, Hermione herself brought him out of his mental haze. "It's all right, Harry," she said. "If you really like her, you should . . . follow your feelings." She looked him in the eye, and _Oh! _how he hurt and trembled at the look in those eyes. There was so much pain—pain _he'd _unwillingly caused—but there was also that moral strength that so defined Hermione, something he'd always respected about her more than her brains . . .something that he had fallen in love with all over again. "Just," her breath hitched. "Just be good to her, Harry," she said. "I've heard a few things . . . I think she's more fragile than she lets on . . ."

"I know she is," Harry replied.

"_Hmph!" _Ron grunted, slamming the book he had been "reading" shut. It turned out to be _Standard Book of Spells, _but it was opened to a page in the middle; they were still in the early pages for now. "I'm going to the Library," he declared, stomping out.

Harry stared after his friend's departure. _What the heck is that about?_ Not knowing what else to do, however, he just slumped down in a chair, sighing.

"Does she know?"

Harry turned to look at Hermione, startled a little at her question. "What?" he asked.

She sighed. "Have you told Luna about the dreams?"

". . . yeah," he admitted. "She knew before I did," and, because his head was in his hands, he missed Hermione's look of utter shock.

**Hallway Outside Gryffindor Tower; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 9, 1995; 6:47 p.m.**

"_Rrrhhhh!" _Ron slammed his fist into the wall of the hallway. _Stupid Harry! Bloody Hermione, doesn't she get it? _Things had not gone as Ron had planned; instead of running to his arms when he told her that Harry was dating Lovegood, she just curled up and refused to speak to him.

_But she talks to _him! Ron thought. Even Dumbledore had been unimpressed with Ron's news.

**Headmaster's Office; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 9, 1995; 3:51 p.m.**

"That is interesting, Mr. Weasley," the elderly Headmaster said. He was sitting behind his desk reading a book that, amazingly, looked older than he did.

"But, what about our plans?" Ron had whined. "Harry's supposed to marry Ginny!"

"It would be more convenient if he did so," Dumbledore had replied, "but it is not overly detrimental to my plans." When Ron had sulked in silence, he added, "Besid

es, Mr. Potter is young, yet. I expect he will breakup with Miss Lovegood at some point, and Ginny will be waiting for him with open arms." Ron hadn't known what to say to that, so the Headmaster concluded, " If that is all, why don't you head back to Gryffindor Tower?"

Ron fumed in silence but couldn't think of anything else to say. So, he forced out a "Yes, sir," turned around, and marched out.

**Present**

Ron kicked a column with his foot. Didn't the Headmaster understand what this meant? Ginny was _born _to be Harry's wife. Couldn't he see that she was perfect for Harry; couldn't _Harry _see? And, couldn't Hermione just give up on the scarred git and realize that _she _belonged with _him?_ Heck, they were even Prefects together, wasn't that a sign? _Harry didn't make Prefect, _he thought to himself. _ I finally beat him in something big, and she doesn't even care. _He remembered how happy she'd looked when she rushed into the room and thought Harry had gotten the badge and not him; how disappointed she'd been when they'd told her the badge was _his _and not _Harry's . . ._ Ron kicked the wall again.

The angry red-head sulked off to the Owlery. Maybe his mum would know what to do . . .

**Slytherin Dormitories; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 9, 1995; 10:30 p.m.**

Daphne Greengrass slumped down on her pillow. Beside her, Tracy was already dozing, and beside _her _Stephanie was still prepping her hair so she wouldn't wake up with a crazy-looking mess on her head. Of course, that was why Daphne was a morning-shower-person.

The blond witch rolled over in her bed, trying to fall asleep, but there was so much on her mind. First, there was that . . . encounter with Potter that redefined melodrama—although, she still smiled as she recalled how he used _courtesy_ to outwit Pansy and the others. Part of her was amazed that her little sister was still so innocent; another was amazed at how innocent _Potter _seemed to be.

It made her think of how he had acted in the past few years. He had always seemed more comfortable around people who came from a "lower" background than he did himself: the Muggleborn Granger, the Weasley family, and Neville Longbotto, who came from an important family but was generally considered little more than a Squib. In fact, Daphne could never remember seeing the young heir interacting with the children of his family's peers. To tell the truth, the dark-haired wizard didn't even act like the heir of such an old and prominent House. His manners were courtious, but crude, and he was perhaps the _shiest _boy she had ever seen. While not every Pureblood was as arrogant as Malfoy, most conducted themselves with dignity and pride; Potter seemed to avoid confrontation with everyone over everything—except bullies, Dark Wizards, or Trolls, apparently. On top of all that, he had been one of the worst dancers at the Yule Ball last year. Honestly, these were things _every _Pureblood from a moderately important House learned!

Of course, Potter was Halfblood, but his father's line was one of the oldest families in the British Isles. He had a higher claim to respect than the white-headed ferret Daphne shared a House with did!

Thinking back on Harry's manners caused Daphne to curl her fingers into her sheets, almost ripping them, as shame raised though her system like a terrible poison. She had never been particularly pleased with herself for taking the easy path and hanging out with Pansy in the hallways and the Commonroom—to tell the truth, she had been immensely proud of her little sister that morning, more proud than she'd been of herself in a long time—but actually _admitting _it to Harry Potter! The boy she-

Daphne stomped on that thought as though it were a cockroach. She was _not _going there! She had too few real friends to risk losing one!**(5)**

That thought led to another one far, _far _more . . . bizarre.

**Hogwarts Library; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 9, 1995; 6:47 p.m.**

After dinner, just as Daphne was going to the Library to study with Story(and get away from Pansy and her pets—Tracey had already disappeared . . .somewhere), none other than "Loony" Lovegood herself had walked up to her! "Hello, Daphne," she said, smiling.

"He- hello, Lovegood," Daphne'd replied. Her brain searched for a reason this girl had to approach her.

"Dinner was lovely, wasn't it?" the snowy-haired girl had asked.

"Yes . . . it was."

"Um, excuse me," a voice said from her side. Daphne jumped a little, then remembered her little sister. Story was looking up at the new witch and asked, "Who are you?"

Daphne mentally groaned, both at her sister's innate friendliness and her utter lack of manners.

Lovegood, however, only smiled. "I'm Luna Lovegood, but everyone calls me 'Loony.'"

Story made a face. "That doesn't sound very nice."

"No," Luna said, still smiling. "It's not. What's your name?"

"Astoria Greengrass," the girl had answered promptly, while Daphne was still trying to wrap her mind around Luna's attitude. Who smiled when she admitted that she knew other people were being mean to her? Meanwhile, "Are you friends with my sister?" Story asked.

"I'd like to be," Luna had replied, breaking up the fog in Daphne's brain. Before she had a chance to talk to the other witch, however, Luna had said, "See you around, Daphne. Pleasant dreams." Then, she'd turned and walked away . . .

**Present**

Daphne sighed to herself. Luna had been nice, but that was definitely one of the _strangest _encounters she'd ever had. She pulled the sheets up tighter on herself; it was getting cold these nights.

Daphne Greengrass drifted off to sleep, and she dreamed of a tall, red-haired man with dragon tattoos on his arms, a pair of girls with breathtakingly familiar smiles, a red-headed woman holding a spear, and a dark-haired young man with a smile that make her heart beat faster and warmed the inside of her chest.

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**Author's Notes: **OK, first off, I didn't put a footnote at the end, because I won't insult anyone's intelligence by identifying who Daphne's dreaming about. (Not that you're dumb if you can't figure it out; you just haven't read "the books").

Secondly, I warned you all at the start of this chapter, I'm not onboard with how EVIL some authors make their Weasleys and Dumbledore. Yeah, they're still doing bad stuff (aside from Ginny), but that doesn't make them on par with Voldemort or the Wolf, Ram, and Hart.

Thirdly, I'm sure a few of you were disappointed that Harry and Luna didn't get to "go another round." Well, there will be more sex in the chapter or two, but only when I think it's appropriate. A wise person once said, the definition of pornography is turning the sublime into the simple, and I believe making love is supposed to be sublime (at least in this story). That's why (if you went onto Ficwad and read the uncensored version of the last chapter) the scene between Harry and Luna is full of confusion. I wanted to really captured what I thought there first time would be like. As relationships develop and the characters mature, these scenes will become (I believe) smoother, shorter, more often, and (for want of a better term) "dirtier."

**Footnotes:**

**(1) **Yes, I'm going there. Basically, having read the (sadly) abandoned "Harem War" and the (annoyingly slow to update) "Curse's Cure" and the works of zArkham (who is-for the most part-awesome, by the way), I just really like the whole "wives, consorts, and concubines" thing. For those of you reading "Son of a Snake," I won't say whether or not there are hetaerae in this universe (mostly because I haven't decided yet).

**(2) **At the risk of spoiling some of _The Lord of Chaos _for you. Yes, Aviendha did seriously consider killing Rand (and herself) at one point (because she slept with him after promising her friend, Elayne, that she wouldn't let any other women get their hands on him).

**(3) **Again, risking spoiling _Wheel of Time, _but Min did once have a Viewing where Aviendha gives birth to two sets of twins (at once!), and Aviendha herself had a vision of a possible future where her daughters where named Padra and Marinna.

**(4) **OK, I felt it would be best if I confronted this issue head on, since I knew it was going to come up ever since Chapter 4. I can't really think of anything else to say except: HARRY HAS NOT BEEN RAISED WITH HIS SOULMATES IN THIS LIFE! HE HAS NO BIOLOGICAL RELATION TO THEM! HIS MEMORIES OF THEM AS FAMILY ARE VERY VAUGE! LOVING THEM IS _**NOT**_INCEST! If you can't get you're head around that, you may want to consider stopping now because, minor spoiler, everyone of Harry's soulmates has been a relative at some point or another in the past four ages and will be again sometime in the next three!


	8. Chapter 8: The Truth Will Out

**Author's Notes: Wow, seven or eight pages on my laptop, hopefully this'll make up for the wait. Also, for those of you disappointed that Harry and Luna didn't "get it on" again in the last chapter, good news! No, they don't have sex in this chapter either, but if you head over to Ficwad, you will find a section at the end where . . . well, read the second-to-last line of this edition, and you'll find out.**

**randomrunner14: Honestly, no I didn't. I kind of like it, but Neville and Conan are way too different for me to justify that in my own mind. Rest assured, however, that I am thinking of Neville, and I hope everyone will like what I do to him.**

**atmyer: Well, that all gets addressed in this chapter. Hope you like it.**

**Penny is Wise: Thank you.**

**Crossoverpairinglover: Yeah, me too. I've given up hope non _Harem War _ever being updated again, honestly. Shame, but it did give me and a few other folk ideas, and the internet is, I believe, a better place for it.**

**ILikeComps: Yeah, Harry's in a tough situation, and explaining the truth to Hermione will be harder than doing so with anyone else (on account of her being so logical). Again, that will be addressed here.**

**One last thing: In _Son of a Snake, _I made the offer that if enough people asked me to identify who would have what position in Harry 's harem, I would post it in a list in the Author's notes (I only got one 'yes," so I haven't). This was after I made a similar offer to identify all the ladies in question (which I've mostly done already for this story). So, now I'm making to same offer to you guys: If enough of you request it in the Reviews, I'll post the list.**

**Now, on with the show!**

**P.S. I've officially issued my first challenge. You can see it on my Author's Page, right under the backstory to _World Tree, _or (if you don't want to dig) you can read the example I'm doing for it, _Grimm Effect-Example. _That's right, the challenge is to write a crossover between Bioware's _Mass __Effect _and NBC'S _Grimm! _The fic I'm doing is just an example, you don't have to look at it if you don't want to, but it does reiterate the rules at the bottom of the first chapter.**

**(Now I know how Crossoverpairinglover feels when no one adopts one of the many actually pretty darn interesting challenges he fills his Author's Page with. _Moans._)**

* * *

**The Black Lake; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 12, 1995; 10:22a.m.**

"Good morning, Hermione," Luna called, walking up towards her and Harry.

Hermione herself responded with a curt, "Good morning, Luna," but, considering she had been near crying the night before, Harry took it as a good sign. He gave his bushy-haired friend more points because she was being polite after Luna had surprised her; it looked like sneaking up on people was his consort's normal greeting.

After he had confessed to Hermione that Luna knew what was going on, they hadn't spoken for the rest of the night. Then, when Harry walked down the stairs of his room, Hermione had been standing outside the door, waiting for him. "We need to speak with Luna," she'd said.

When Harry had, naturally, failed to understand, she explained, "I-_we _need to understand how she knows what she knows, and how much she knows that we don't. And, besides . . ." Hermione bit her lip. "It would be better if we all work together, don't you think?"

_All work together . . . _those three words were like a spell designed to send Harry's insides into chaos. There was the joy at finally being open with Hermione—of all three of them being together, fear that they might drive her away, and the hope that—in spite of everything—she would believe them and would . . . love him like he loved her.

Now was the moment of truth. Luna hadn't expressed any reluctance when he'd approached her earlier to ask for this meeting. She'd just smiled and said, "Oh, perfect! I was wondering when we'd be able to draw her in!" Looking at her now, though, Harry wasn't sure she had been totally honest with him. There was a hesitance to her movements, and her eyes constantly seemed to flick back to Hermione. And, the way she'd paused after greeting her, staring intently at the other girl, standing just a little too stiff . . . Luna was unusual in so many ways, but she wasn't invulnerable.

" . . . has Harry told you why we need to talk?" Hermione asked. If anything, she seemed more vulnerable than Luna, surprisingly enough. She was not only biting her lip but was shuffling her feet a little. Her hands were at her sides, but they couldn't seem to keep still; they kept clenching and unclenching. Her fingers tapped her thighs, spread wide then snapped shut, smoothed her robes until the sides were flat as desk tops . . .

"Yes, he has," Luna replied. "I know you'll find it hard to believe, but—no," she shook her head. "Hermione, I'd like to apologize to you, and to you, Harry," she said, turning to her husband. You're Harry's oldest and dearest friend, Hermione, and I put him in a position where he had to keep a terrible, powerful secret from you. I'm very sorry. Can you forgive me, please?" Luna asked, finally finding the courage to approach Hermione and take the other witch's hands into her own. She also looked at Harry, with those big, sorrowful eyes he was growing to hate.

"It's not your fault, Luna!" he said, instantly moving to her side. "You never asked me to keep any of this from Hermione; that was my dumb call. I'm the one who owes her an apology, not you!"

"But, if I hadn't told you-" Luna started.

"Then, I might have gone mental," Harry cut her off. Wrapping his arms around her, he said, "Luna, I didn't know what to do or what was going on. I was in a dark place, and you pulled me out of it. I will always be grateful for that, Love." While Luna softly cried against him, Harry looked up at Hermione, and his heart screamed in pain at the look on her face. Hermione looked like it was all she could do not to either break down and cry or turn and run away. Lifting one arm off Luna's back, he offered it to her. "'Mione . . . I am so, so sorry that I kept this from you, and I can't excuse it. Can you . . . could you please forgive me?" he asked, walking towards her a little. Luna moved with him even in her crying state.

Hermoine looked at Harry's outstretched hand, and walked into his embrace. Harry grunted as Hermione's surprisingly powerful arms wrapped him in her trademark strangling hug. She didn't cry like Luna did, just held him with all her might, and it felt good. Then, Luna pulled one of her arms from around him and embraced Hermione's shoulders, and it brought a small smile to his face.

* * *

"We're soulmates, Hermione," Luna said. The three were sitting down on the shores beside the Black Lake. They'd expelled their tears together, and, while no one was really happy, they all felt better. Well enough to discuss things, at any rate.

"That's . . . very nice," Hermione said, not sounding "nice" but not angry either.

Harry was confused for a moment, before a usually dark light bulb went off in his head. "Oh! Ah, Hermione," he stuttered. She turned to look at him. _Oh, boy, _he thought. _How do I do this? _"When Luna said _'We're _soulmates,' she didn't mean she and I—no, that's wrong. She did mean she and I, but . . ."

"What I meant to say," Luna said with a smile, "was Harry, myself, and you, are all soulmates, together."

" . . . what?" Hermione squeaked. In any other circumstance, the look of utter confusion on her face would have been amazingly funny. Downright hilarious, even.

"Well . . ." Harry offered. "Luna's definition of soulmate is probably different from yours."

"I see," Hermione said(1). It was kind of obvious that was the case.

"Soulmates," Luna explained, "are those who are destined to always reunite with one another when they are reborn into a new Age."

"Reincarnation?" Hermione asked.

Luna nodded. "Quite right. You, Harry, and myself have always and always will find one another each and every time we are born into a new Age. Sometimes, we are lovers, sometimes, we are parents and children. What is constant is that we are together—oh, and so are the others."

Harry cringed at that last phrase. While they eventually would have to tell Hermione about the whole "multiple-lovers-thing," he'd been hoping to put it off.

_"'Others?'" _Hermione asked.

"Six others," Harry muttered, placing his head in his hands. This was not going well.

"So, you believe your children," she said, looking at the two of them, "will be your 'soulmates?'" Hermione asked.

"Oh, no," Luna said. "This time none of us are related to Harry. So, we're all going to be his consorts, wives, and concubines." She finished with a smile.

Harry buried his head in his hands, waiting for Mount Hermione's inevitable eruption. Strangely, it didn't come.

* * *

Hermione held her head in her hands. _You can't keep a secret forever,_ her mother had warned her as a child. _If you don't break down and let it out, people will find out on their own, and where will you be then? _It looked like she was about to find out. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said.

"For what?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"I-I never told you . . . I've read a lot about wizarding law . . . There . . . there's one related to marriage. A wizard can only marry once . . . unless he's the heir of two families. . . Then . . . he can marry again . . . one wife for each name . . ."

"Oh," Harry said. Turning to Luna he remarked, "You didn't mention that."

"Oh, sorry," she said. "In the middle of everything else, it slipped my mind."

Hermione continued as though she hadn't heard them. "You're the heir of the Potter family by birth . . . Sirius—he's head of the Black family . . . There's no way he'll ever let that title pass to . . . that prat, Malfoy . . . So . . . Harry . . . that means you'll need to marry two women . . . One to be 'Mrs. Potter,' _and . . . _one to be 'Mrs. Black.'" Though she didn't notice it at that moment, she was crying.

Harry, however, did, and moved over to embrace her. Hermione leaned into him as she continued, vaguely aware that Luna was hugging her from behind. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she went on. "You must hate me . . . bloody little . . . _hypocrite _that I am." And she was, shunning him all night for hiding secrets from her, when she'd been keeping this one for years . . .

_"Shshsh." _Harry whispered, stroking her hair. "I don't hate you, 'Mione. You're not a hypocrite."

The head buried in his shoulder shook itself violently.

Harry frowned, looking for something to convince her, when Luna spoke. "Hermione," she asked, gently. "Why did you keep this a secret from Harry?"

"Because . . ." the brunette gasped. "I . . . I didn't want to lose him."

Harry's eyebrows shot up fifty feet. "_Lose him"—lose _me? he thought.

While Harry struggled with this impossible idea, Luna went on. "Oh, Hermione," she cried, holding her soulmate tighter, "how could you ever think that? You could never lose Harry, not to me or to anyone. Everyone at this school can see how close you are. Did you know there's a betting poll on how long until you start dating?" Leaning closer, she whispered into Hermione's ear, "Hermione, of all of us, you are the only one how has no reason to be afraid of losing him. It could never, _ever _happen." When Hermione didn't respond, Luna looked up at Harry and mouthed, _Kiss her._

Her consort needed no further incentive. Gently—_oh so _gently—he raised Hermione's head and brought his lips down on hers in a sweet kiss.

Hermione immediately responded to it, moving her lips against his and wrapping her arms even more tightly around his lean frame. Some corner in the back of her mind felt Luna lay her head down on her shoulder.

_"No!" _Hermione said, pushing Harry back. Harry sqwaked a little and almost toppled over. Luna let out an _"Oi!" _and actually _did _fall over on her back. Hermione paid no attention to either of them. "Harry," she said, "we _can't!"_

"Why not?" Harry asked, righting himself. He looked over Hermione's shoulders to see that Luna was all right, although she did not look happy.

"Harry, you're with Luna!" his oldest friend cried.

"So?" the blond in question asked, getting up now. Hermione swiveled around to look at her and saw the other witch was frowning . . . and, apparently ignoring the grass that was stuck in her hair. When the bushy-haired witch failed to come up with a response—and wasn't that a landmark moment—Luna huffed and added. "Hermione, he's going to be 'with' _eight _of us. I don't think I'll survive very long if I'm the only one Harry's allowed to kiss."

"Luna . . . polygamy is _illegal!" _Hermione sputtered.

"In most of the Muggle world, yes," Luna agreed, "but it's perfectly legal in the Magical one."

"It's immoral!"

"Is it?" Luna asked. "Who decided that, Hermione? The Greeks? The Romans? They only supported monogamy because it was convenient; they had their heirs with one woman, then enjoyed all the prostitutes Hermione, how often do couples separate because of infidelity? It's more common in the Muggle world, but that's only because divorce is frowned on in the Magical one. Is trying to keep someone's love all to yourself really very healthy?"

"Polygamy is wrong!" Hermione shouted, even though, a small part of her was actively rebelling against what society had taught her, a part that wanted Harry and didn't care what it took to get him. "It's deeming to women-"

"According to who?" Luna countered. "Have you ever heard of the Vikings or the Native Americans, Hermione? They allowed men to marry more than one wife, but both those societies were far ahead of their times in women's rights; both women to seek divorces, and the Vikings allowed women to be warriors. Native American societies often allowed women to become advisors to the chief; some even became chiefs themselves."** (2)** Luna thought a moment. "You've heard of William Moulten Marston?"

"He was an American psychologist," Hermione answered. "He invented the polygraph lie-detector and radical feminist theorist."

Luna nodded. "Correct. His fundamental theory was that women are more caring by nature and are thus the superior sex. Also, he got the idea for the polygraph from his wife, Elizabeth." Looking at the brunet witch, Luna asked casually, "Did you know he had a mistress, Hermione?"

"He _what?"_ both Hermione and Harry cried together.

"Well, 'mistress' is the wrong term," Luna corrected herself. "The truth is that another woman, named Olive Byrne, lived with them and had children with Mr. Marston. In fact, Elizebeth named her daughter "Olive Ann." Then, after her husband's death in 1947, she worked to support both her own children and Olive's, and took care of the other woman until Olive herself died in the '80s."

" . . . why?" Hermione asked.

"Because she loved her husband, and, one way or another, loved Olive, too." Wrapping her arms around Hermione again, Luna continued. "I love Harry, Hermione. I know that he loves me, too, and that you both love each other; I know that I could grow to love you."

"You really want to . . . share Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I don't think of it as sharing," Luna answered. "I think of it as being part of a group of people. Remember, _we _are soulmates, all of us together. We're not eight couples which happen to all have the same man; we're . . ."

"A family?" Harry offered.

Luna nodded to him. "Yes, a family."

Hermione was silent for a long time. Then, "I don't know if I can do this," she said. "but I'm willing to give it a shot, for Harry."

* * *

Luna and Harry did their best to explain what Harry's dreams meant and the larger picture of the situation to Hermione . . . as well as the fact that they were already married.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, DO YOU EVER _THINK _BEFORE YOU JUMP HEAD-FIRST INTO THIngS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND?" Hermione was not exactly happy at this little piece of news.

"I didn't know saying the oath was going to marry us," Harry offered.

"But, I did," Luna said. "And for that, Hermione, I am sorry." Hermione, who at this point was taking in air to launch another roar, was disarmed by the statement. Luna went on, "I wasn't thinking about how anyone else would feel about our marriage. I was thinking only of myself, and I am very sorry if I hurt you or anyone else's feelings."

"Thank you . . . Luna," Hermione managed. It was clear Luna's simple, honest apology had thrown a very large monkey wrench into the wheels in her head. She recovered quickly, however, "But, why did you do it, in the first place?"

"Oh, well, I'm sorry about that, too," Luna said. "I married him because it was the only way Harry would agree to make love to me."

"To . . . make . . ." Hermione stuttered.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Luna repeated. "I wasn't thinking of anyone else at the time; I was just so happy and in love with Harry . . ."

"No," Harry said. "It's my fault. If I had been a little stronger, I could have-" He was cut off when Hermione burst out laughing.

"Oh . . . my . . . you two . . ." Once again, Hermione threw her arms around the pair, and shook with emotion, but, this time, she was laughing. Harry looked at Luna, who, (for once) looked as confused as he did. Still, it was hard not to smile as they held Hermione and rode out her fit of joy.

Finally, Hermione stopped. Sitting up again, she had tears in her eyes, but was smiling. "All right, I accept both your apologies, even though I think they are a tad ridiculous." Harry and Luna both tried to protest, but Hermione cut them off, "I'm making a new rule: no self-flagellation or excessive apologies. No, not another word about this. Yes, I'm sorry I wasn't Harry's first," she admitted with a blush. "But, thinking about it, I know I'm not ready for _that. _So, I can't really complain if you two are."

"Hermione-" Harry tried.

"New rule, Harry," Hermione reminded him.

Luna hugged her new friend a little tighter. "You're really not mad at us?"

Hermione sighed. "I'm disappointed, but there's no changing it, so—as long as you used protection," Harry cringed while Luna (who was grinning at Harry's discomfort) nodded calmly, "I guess there's nothing else I can complain about. What I don't understand though, is, how you were able to marry each other while you're still underage."

"Only I am, really" Luna said. "As heir of his house, Harry had the right to claim his majority when he turned fourteen."

"I was never told that," Harry said.

"Which makes it a good thing you listened to your godfather and never told Dumbledore about what's been going on lately," Luna said. When the other two looked at her, she sighed. "I've had some . . . weird Viewings when I look at him. I don't know what precisely they mean—they aren't always exact, you know—but I don't think we should talk to him about this."

Hermione looked like she wanted to launch into a lecture, but Harry just sighed, "It's not like he's been much interested in me so far this year, so I guess it doesn't matter."

Hermione looked at her "soulmates" and _huff_-ed. "All right, I don't like it, but I won't talk to the Headmaster about all of this, not that I'm certain I believe it all, anyway."

"Do you have a better explanation as to why Harry is having perfectly accurate, full sensory dreams about people and events he's never heard of?"

"No," Hermione admitted. "But, how can you explain the existence of three previous human civilizations that the Muggle world has never heard of, and the Magical world regards as only existing in children's stories?"

Harry winced at the growing tension; he always knew that convincing Hermione of all this would be difficult, although he did admit that she raised a good point.

"Well," Luna replied, "according to Muggle scientists, our ancestors supposedly achieved 'behavioral modernity' 50,000 years ago, although it's believe humanity had attained 'anatomical modernity' 150,000 years before that: 200,000 years ago. Is it really so hard to believe that some parts of our early history were lost in all that time. Certainly when Atlantis fell, the continents shifted and a number of island nations sank, wiping out most of the evidence that they had ever been more than stories."

Harry tired and failed to wrap his brain around the concept of 200 millenia. Hermione, however, was in awe of the blond waif. "Luna, how do you know that?" she asked. "Most magicals . . ."

"Don't care about what Muggles have learned or what they write, I know," Luna shrugged. "My daddy is very fond of reading Muggle biology texts, trying to broaden his understanding of the more wonderful creatures of the world. I've read them, too."

Hermione nodded, not commenting on what she thought of some of the "more wonderful creatures Luna and her father believed in. "That reminds me, you never explained how you were able to marry Harry when you were a minor. What about your parents? Surely, they'll have something to say about this."

"My mother is dead," Luna said calmly. "She has been since I was a little girl. It's just Daddy and me, and . . . well, our relationship is . . . _strained _at times."

"What do you mean, Luna?" Harry asked, his "saving-people-thing," as Hermione called it, was combining with his own hurtful homelife_ and _joining with the love he felt for his consort.

"I don't want to talk about it, Harry," Luna replied. "To answer your other question, Hermione, the oath doesn't care about legal maturity. That I am, more or less, sexually mature and genuinely in love with Harry is enough for the bond to form. It's . . . well, magic."

"Of course," Harry muttered, smiling a little, but, in his heart, he couldn't let go of the subject Luna was so eager to avoid.

"I suppose that makes sense," Hermione allowed. A thought occurred to her. "Is that how you knew about Marston, Luna, reading your father's texts?"

"Oh, no," Luna replied. "I looked him up because I wanted to know more about him. You see, he also created my favorite character,Amazonia of DC comics.**(3)** That's a funny name, isn't it: Detective Comics Comics?"

"You read comicbooks, Luna?" Hermione asked.

"Of course," Luna replied. "You may not have noticed it, Hermione, but fiction in the Wizarding world leaves a lot to be desired."

**Slytherin Dormitories; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 12, 1995; 11:39 p.m.**

Daphne shot upright in her bed. Her breath came out in pants, and her face, if it had been visible, would have been red as a Weasly's head. She had been having the most realistic dream of her life. She'd been bathing in a tent, but not as herself-at least, she didn't think so; Daphne's hair was golden, not red. Then, suddenly, a man had walked in on her. Daphne'd screamed, and then . . . _something _had happened. She'd seen some strange ribbons of light, and then found herself in the middle of a snow bank in a storm!

In Scotland, it got very cold in the winter, but that was nothing compared the old she'd felt in that moment. It was cold beyond cold; certain death in a soft, white package. She _would _have died, too, if it hadn't been for the Red-Headed Man. He'd saved her; he'd followed after her with blankets and used some kind of magic to create an igloo for them. She'd been so relieved at what he'd done, so grateful . . . so in love.

They'd made love, together.**(4)**

It had been so realistic. She'd actually _felt _every wonderful moment of it (along with the not-so-wonderful moments of pain). And then, just before the end, the man had changed. Suddenly, he wasn't the Red-Haired Man With Grey Eyes; he was the Black-Haired Boy With Green Eyes.

Daphne lay back down. Was that . . .? Was it . . .? Honestly, she didn't know what it was or what it meant, except that she was too keyed up to go to sleep again any time soon. So, Daphne did something she rarely did; she swore.

"Fuck!" she muttered. Quietly, so as not to disturb her roommates, she got out of bed and grabbed her wand and her towel. Walking on tip-toe, she left her dorm, and walked down the hall to the girls' lavatory. As befitting the House of Pride and Ambition, it was a beautiful work of architecture, black marble tile and polished dark wood stalls. The nozzles and taps were silver and gold, and everything sparkled every minute of every day. Daphne had made it a habit to leave a few sweets in the room late at night whenever she got anything from home; House Elves like to be appreciated, too, and the ones who cleaned the Slytherin loos deserved it more than most.

She walked into one of the private booths used for showers (unlike Muggle locker-rooms, the idea of "open shower stalls" had never caught on in the Magical world). She locked it behind her and cast S_æculaclauditis,_ so the door couldn't be opened with _Alohamora.**(5)** _She didn't expect anyone to disturb her at this time of night, but the blond witch wasn't in the mood to take chances.

Turning on the shower, she set her wand on the ledge beside it and hung her towel on the hook. Then, she reached around and undid the strings of her grey nightgown so that, when she pulled off the shoulder straps, it fluttered to her feet. Then, she slid her panties down her long, smooth legs. She placed them beside her wand and walked into the warm water.

There were soaps and shampoos in a little alcove for the students who forgot to back their own because it wasn't on the list of school supplies (mostly Muggle-borns who were too enthralled with the discovery of magic to think straight but everyone forgot _something _at some point), but Daphne wasn't taking this shower to get clean; that would come in the morning.

Instead, she sat down on the bench, spread her legs, and began to play with herself.

And, while she didn't know it, two dark-skinned girls in Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were doing the exact same thing.

* * *

**Author's Note: OK, I think that went well. That section at the beginning may have been the most gut-wrenching thing I ever wrote, which is part of the reason I'm including the masturbation scene on Ficwad. Partially it's to show Daphne moving forward in her feelings for Harry, (which is also kind of why I put in that line about the Patils at the very end; they haven't gotten any screentime, thus far, and I felt I should get them involved somehow to justify adding them to Harry's harem later. but also because, as I was writing, I got pretty down, so I decided to write something to cheer everyone up (I actually went back and filled the middle in later, so I don't know if it's necessary anymore, but I felt the need to write a little lemon-flavored goodness.**

**I hope I'm not being too OC with Luna; my interpretation is, having spent so much of her life being rejected like Harry has, she'd be just as sensitive to doing anything that might hurt those who actually get close to her or might drive away her only friends. Also, I've noticed most fanfictions portray Luna and her father as having a happy, loving relationship (the notable exception being zArkham's _Rejected Path. _Be warned: it is not for the weak of heart or mind), but I can't get over what he did in _Deathly Hollows, _so . . .**

**Footnotes:**

**(1) Characters who say "I see," when they don't really understand what's going on beyond the broadest possible sweeps is a running gag in the _Artemis Fowl _stories. Minor spoiler: Artemis and his world are (more or less) part of another World on the Tree and will show up in future books. Think you can guess which one?**

**(2) This is all pretty much true. A bunch of Native American tribes, such as the Sioux, for example, did allow polygamy, but gave their women more rights than the monogamous White Men gave to theirs. In fact, when the Sioux began running out of male chiefs during their wars with the U.S. government, women became chiefs. Heck, sometimes, a man's wife would be the one to urge him to take a second bride (a sister or friend, usually). Since women weren't allowed to hunt, every woman needed a hunter and a warrior to provide for her and her family, and sharing a husband made sense when so many died in wars or on hunts. A lot of people seem to see monogamy as a trademark of civilization, but that's only because of Europeans forcing it on other cultures they came into contact with, or other cultures adopting it as they tried to modernize. **

**That said, I'm not going to have _all _the major guy characters in this series be polygamous. Some will be (and the more I think on it, the larger than number grows. Oh, boy), but some will find all the love and companionship they need from a single woman. Also, spoiler alert, there's going to be a few cases in this story alone where one lady will find herself with multiple guys. Fair's fair, after all.**

**(3) Yeah, that's all true, at least according to Wikipedia and Moviebob. Except, the character wasn't "Amazonia," she was _Wonderwoman _("Amazonia" was the name of an Elseworlds story that took place on Earth 34). Marston was one heck of an amazing guy. Not only did he (under the penname Charles Moulton) create arguably the most iconic female comic character of all time (whose personality was allegedly based on Elizabeth and her appearance on Olive, who was also a tall, black-haired woman and who wore big, silver bracelets for some unknown reason) he argued that comicbooks could be a legitimate literary form _decades _before the likes of Alan Moore or Niel Gaiman were making tidal waves by doing just that.**

**Additionally, he once stated that Elizabeth gave him the idea for the polygraph: she noticed that her blood pressure rose when she got excited. Later scholars would credit her research as furthering Marston's own work on the invention. That's right, Elizabeth was a scientist too, and he let her keep working in a time when most women retired when they conceived their first child if they hadn't already when they married.**

**(4) This is an actual scene from _Wheel of Time, _a scene I never actually read, and so may have gotten slightly wrong, but . . . Incidentally, Channeling, unlike most forms of magic, isn't something the practioner _feels. _Channelers _see _the elements they manipulate as different colored strands of power. This will be explained more in depth as the story goes on.**

**(5) "S_æculaclauditis,_" is Latin for "Ever lock." Rowling, so far as I know, never explained what the Charm was that kept doors locked, so I made up my own.**

**OK, I'm sure some of you are wondering why I changed good ole Diana's name for some other character. Well, here's a hint, look at the description of _World Tree _on my Author's Page, if you don't mind some_ minor _spoilers.**


	9. Chapter 9: Confrontations & Observations

**Author's Notes: Gotta love Summer! I'm updating _way _more often than during the school year! Actually I was updating during the last month or so of school pretty fast, so maybe I'm just finding my groove.**

**smokeapound: Uh . . . right, sorry if I'm a little cliche', but part of my understanding of Harry's character is that the Dursley's abuse has turned him into a very passive, socially stunted person. This mental state also feeds into and is fed by his benevolent nature; Harry's a bit of pushover because he's just a really nice guy, especially to those close to him, and he's a really ice guy because he doesn't want to hurt other and because he's so desperate for love and acceptance. As for Harry being dumb, you notice how often he's wrong in the books. We'll see how he develops as the story progresses. If you want to stop reading, that's all right. This story isn't for everyone. It's impossible to please everyone, and I'm really more interested in pleasing myself. Sorry.**

**P.S. You may not like this chapter.**

**irishdaddy0204: Thank you.**

**Man of Constant Sorrow: Thank you; I am truly touched. Yes, Hermione's parents . . . I've been thinking about them, mostly in regards to _Son of a Snake, _so, thank you for reminding me of them here. I want to address their reactions and . . . Whoa, Nelly, it ain't looking good for Harry. Not that the others would get off Scott-free, but Harry would be in especially hot water. **

**I'm sad about Holly and Artemis, too (and that the series is over, but that's a whole other issue). There's a really nice trilogy by AgiVega on this site, but it starts after _Eternity Code _and crafts a whole new story, so . . . **

**As to your desire for a post-Book-8-Continuation. . . wait a bit and that may come to pass . . . _hint, hint . . ._**

**Penny is wise: Thank you. **

**moonstone88: Thanks. Yeah, there is a lot to process. I'm occasionally working on _The Book of _Ae, which sort of works like a fanwiki for this whole mess. I sometimes entertain the dream of setting a whole website for this story, like the old _Otherworld _site on Linsdomain-for those of you who don't know, which is probably most or all of you, _Otherworld _was a long-running fan series that was a crossover story of various anime, It was actually really good, and I loved it. It also had a few fanfics, and stories set in the same universe but on other planets (no, not making that up). Sadly, the author closed that section of the site for reasons I don't know, and I've only been able to find fragments of the stories sense then _(cries)-_complete with a guide to the series' mythos and a place where people could post fanart . . . _sighs_**

**The problem is, I know nothing about webdesign, and my parents still pay my creditcard bills, and I don't want to have to explain this to them (my mother _does _read trashy romance novels, but I don't want to tell her that I'm kind of writing one, and the whole "harem thing" . . . see above, regarding Hermione's parents). Still, I can dream for free, and maybe some day . . . Hey, _Naruto's _on the list of worlds!**

**ILikeComps: Thanks, I was actually a little worried that I was moving too fast with building the relationships. I still feel that way, but there comes a time when a writer needs to MAKE. THINGS. HAPPEN!**

**Crossoverpairinglover: Hmm, I'll need to look that up, but it certainly makes sense. Heck, we have artificial insemations for couples nowadays, but, back then, "_t__hat" _was about the only way a homosexual couple could have kids (female ones, anyhow, a homosexual man was kind of hard to work with-NOT A PUN!) **

**Yeah, the Native Americans were really pretty awesome. I have fondness for them myself, partially due to the fact that I have some trace amounts of First Nations' blood _somewhere _in my background (as, I suppose, any American does whose family's been here a while). I can't really call myself a member of that nationality, but it has made me curious, and curiosity may kill cats, but it is an artist's (especially a writer's) best tool.**

**Also, Sharp Knife (as some of the Natives he drove out called President Jackson) was indeed a total jerk to the Natives. I only like him because he kept the country together long enough for Lincoln to be elected. Seriously, it's no surprise this guy was the first president (I think) an assassination attempt was made on. I'm not making that up, some guy tried to shoot Andrew Jackson at one point, in public. It was only by a some kind of miracle that the man survived (literally, they checked the would-be killer's pistols afterwards and both were working fine. It's a mystery they didn't fire when the trigger was pulled). Old Hickory, of course, beat the guy up with his cane (Who else isn't surprised at that response?)**

** zookster: Nice name (not sarcasm, I like the way "zookster" sounds). Thanks for pointing that out to me so soon. I owe you one.**

**OK, enough chit-chat, on with the show!**

* * *

**Gryffindor Commonroom; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 13, 1995; 7:22a.m.**

Harry yawned as he walked into the Commonroom. "Harry," a voice called, causing him look up. Hermione was sitting on the couch, apparently waiting for him. "When did you go bed last night?"

The young wizard shrugged. "Half-past eleven," he answered.

Hermione's eyebrow twitched; that meant that he'd gotten almost a full eight hours of sleep last night. "Ron left half an hour ago with Dean and Seamus," she replied.

_That's twice now he's gotten up before me, _Harry thought, but chose not to comment upon. "Ready for Breakfast?" he asked instead. Hermione nodded and got up. They headed towards the portal, which Harry pushed open and held for Hermione (the Fat Lady couldn't see on the opposite side of her frame, so it had to be opened manually from the inside).**(1)**

Hermione smiled at the gesture. Harry had done this sort of thing before, but now . . . Now, there was so much more meaning behind it. Yesterday, Hermione had confessed her feelings for Harry, realized he returned them, accepted (more or less) that Harry was programmed to love seven other girls—unlike Luna, Hermione didn't believe in Fate or Destiny—and dealt with the fact that her beloved was already married and had given his virginity to Luna.

That last one had forced Hermione to take a very careful look at her own feelings and needs. Did she love Harry? Yes, she did love him, had loved him for about as long as she had known him. Did she want to marry him and . . . sleep with him? Yes, she did. Was she ready for that right now? _No. _No, she wasn't. Hermione was sacrificing a major part of her dreams to be with Harry, the part involving monogamy, but she still wanted, needed, to be "courted."

It might have seemed a bit old-fashioned and silly to their ears, but Hermione wanted to go on dates, to get in fights and make up, to decide when she was ready to kiss him, to spend days knowing he was the one for her but still cry out in surprise when he proposed . . . Or, maybe she'd propose as Luna had, Hermione had always been annoyed by the thought that she'd have to wait for her man to ask her instead of asking when _she_ knewthey were ready.

Surprisingly, neither Harry nor Luna had thought it was silly or old-fashioned at all. Harry had just beamed and said he'd be happy, even going so far as to ask "Hermione, will you be my girlfriend?" When she'd replied in the affirmative, Luna had hugged her from behind.

Her mind returning to the present, Hermione saw that they were walking down the halls alone, closer than usual, but still not quite touching. For a moment, she debated about putting her arm around his, but decided not to. That would be rushing things.

Instead, she just enjoyed his closeness as they walked down the stairs and the halls towards the Great Hall and Breakfast. Hermione blushed, which prompted an internal scolding. _You've done this a thousand times before; stop blushing like a schoolgirl on her first date! _Except she was a schoolgirl, and this might, just might, qualify as a first date.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, although some ends are less unpleasant than others. The couple turned the corner and could see the open doors to the Great Hall. What really captured their attention, however, were the two blond witches standing in front of them. One was Luna; the other was . . .

"Daphne?" they both asked, no rehearsal.**(2)**

**Slytherin Dormitories; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 13, 1995; 6:30 a.m.**

Daphne had woken early. While her little "adventure" last night had been meant to burn off energy, the memory was too strong this morning to let her sleep in. She'd be forced to have a repeat performance during her morning shower.**(3)** Not that she didn't enjoy that, although she'd had to be careful to keep the noise down.

After that, she'd gone back to her room and quickly dressed herself. She'd finished just as Tracey was waking up. "Tell the others I went down for Breakfast early, all right?" she'd asked, just pausing at the door for a moment. Once the groggy Tracey had agreed, she'd been off.

Part of her felt bad leaving her best friend and sister to put up with Pansy's "pack" on their own, but Daphne needed to do something on her own. Her "session" this morning had been partially fueled, as last night's had been, by images of two particular Gryffindors doing much the same thing . . . along with a few other things. She blushed at the thought of two of her favorite non-sibling people having sex.**(3)**

That experience had forced her to come**(4)** to a decision regarding her feelings, feelings she knew she'd been harboring for a certain witch for years and she'd suspected she'd had for a certain wizard for even longer.

Daphne had shown up in front of the Great Hall but chosen not to go in, waiting as other students passed by her, waiting for two in particular. That was how she was taken by surprise by a certain _other _witch.

"Hello, Daphne."

Daphne jumped a little and, to her eternal shame, let out a tiny _"eep!" _She'd spun around to see Luna Lovegood twirling her hair and smiling warmly at her. _Luna Lovegood, _the girl who had told her "Pleasant dreams," just two nights ago . . . Frowning, Daphne folded her arms and demanded, "What did you do to me?"

Lovegood kept smiling. "Surprised you, apparently. I seem to have that effect on people. Maybe I should consider adding some bells onto my necklace," she said, playing with the bizarre, cork-based jewelry.

Daphne almost considered calling her on her obvious evasion, but decided not to. It might be possible that the other witch really was as naïve as she appeared. "The other night, you told me to have 'pleasant dreams,' and I have had very _strange _dreams for the past two nights. I take it this is your doing?"

To her surprise, the other witch shook her head. "Oh, no. I didn't plant those dreams in you. I knew you'd be getting them. I just wanted to say hello before they started. Have they been pleasant?"

Daphne blushed but tried to continue scowling. "How did you know I would be having these dreams? What do they mean? What's going on here?"

The fair-haired girl tapped her chin for a moment before responding, "Does the name 'Aviendha,' mean anything to you?"

Daphne gasped. _Aviendha, _that name had appeared in her dreams. "What's it to you, Lovegood?" she snapped.

The other girl smiled. "She was a tall, red-haired woman with nice curves but plenty of muscles, and she loved a tall, red-haired man more than life itself even though she shared his love with two other women." It wasn't even a question, just a list of facts to prove she _did _know something.

"How did you know that?" Daphne asked. "What do you know that you aren't telling me? What's going _on?" _Daphne maintained the presence of mind to avoid shouting too loudly so no one heard from the Great Hall.

"Did you remember the names of the other two women?" Lovegood asked. "Min and Elayne?" The other blond looked Daphne strait in the eye—the Slytherin actually had to take a step back; those eyes looked as though they were studying her soul—and said, perfectly calmly, "It's simple. You were Aviendha many centuries ago, and I was Min. Harry was the man, Rand al'Thor, and Hermione was Elayne."

"I was . . ." Daphne's mind tried to stand up under the weight of the idea. It was like trying to stand under a giant waterfall.

"It's true, Daphne," Luna said, softly. "You're not dreaming; you're remembering. How else could you feel the sun on your skin . . . the clothes on your body . . ."

"The touch of his hands when he . . ." Daphne broke off, blushing fiercely.

"Don't be ashamed, Daphne," Luna smiled. "We've all experienced his love, and, hopefully, you will again."

". . . How is this possible?" Daphne asked, shaking. She placed s hand on the stone walls to steady herself.

The other witch shrugged. "I certainly don't know. 'Why does the sun come up? Or are the stars just pinholes in the curtain of night, who knows?'"**(5) **When Daphne looked at her strangely, she shook her head. "You should try attending the cinema sometime, Daphne, or read more. The point is, I don't know. I can't explain how this is happening; it simply is."

"'Ours is not to reason why. Ours is but to do or die,'" Daphne quoted, softly.

Lovegood nodded. "Exactly, I guess you do read Muggle literature occasionally."**(6)**

Daphne nodded. ". . . so, the three of us—you, me, and Hermione—are we all, someday, going to—"

Luna's grin diminished a little. She had learned something from her experience with Hermione. "I'm afraid it's not that simple," she said. Looking into Daphne's broken eyes the flaxen-haired witch grimaced. _Oh, dear! Bad choice of words; she thinks she may not get him. _"What I mean is . . . you understand that the four of us were reborn together, right?" she asked. The other girl nodded. "That makes us soulmates, you see." Another nod. "Well . . . there are . . . more of us . . . five more . . all female."

"_Eight?" _Daphne gasped. "I'm going to have to share Harry with . . . seven other girls." The other girl nodded. Daphne sighed. "I really shouldn't be surprised, I suppose; Harry's the last of the Potters, and you're the only heir of the Lovegoods, aren't you?" At Lovegood's—_Luna's _nod, she continued, "So, Harry would need to marry multiple women, especially if Hermione invokes her right to declare the Grangers a new House . . ."**(7)**

"I don't think she will," Luna said. "She's uncomfortable enough with the idea of having to share Harry as it is, although I wish people would stop thinking of it that way." When the Slytherin witch stared at her, the fey witch shrugged. "You don't own a spouse or their love, so you can't really 'share' either of them. I prefer to think that we're simply forming one, very big, hopefully happy family, but no one else seems to share my opinion."

"I suppose that is a more . . . positive way of looking at it," Daphne replied. "I can't say I'm really against it; at least, being married to Potter and, sort of, to Hermione . . . I don't think that would be . . ."

"You've been dreaming of it, haven't you?" Luna whispered. Daphne gasped and stepped back; Luna just smiled a little. "People don't pay much attention to me, but I pay a lot of attention to them. I have Ancient Runes right after you, and, sometimes, I pass the Arithmancy classroom on my way back to the Ravenclaw Dormitories . . . I've seen the way you look at her Daphne . . ." As the blush spread further across Daphne's face, Luna's smile grew a little wider. "It's all right; I've had the same dreams."

"You . . .?" Daphne asked, dropping her hands from her face.

"I've always loved Harry, and Hermione is one of the few people to take the time to be kind to me, to even try to know me . . ." Luna replied. Daphne's blush returned, but now she was truly ashamed; she was one of the one's who hadn't. "It was easy to love her." Walking up to Daphne, she offered her hand. "I believe we can learn to love each other, too, maybe not the same way but some way, First Sister?"**(8)**

_First Sister, _Daphne's mind shuddered with an impossible feeling. Two innocuous words that combined, made her heart leap and burn, and caused her mind to drift back . . . _somewhere. _She couldn't place it, yet, but she understood that the title had meaning, and, to some part of her soul, it still did.

But that was a question for another time. For now, there was only one question that she needed to answer: take the offer before her or decline it.

"First sister," she breathed, taking Luna's hand. Maybe it was her guilt; maybe it was the desire to be close to the only source of information she had; maybe, just maybe, it was the ache for a long lost friendship. Whatever her motivation, Daphne knew this: it was an easy choice to make.

**Present**

"Hello, Hermione," Daphne said, letting go of Luna's hand. "Hello . . . Harry."

Harry's eyebrows went up. _She called me 'Harry?' _ He chose not to comment upon that issue, however, instead turning to Hermione and asking, "You two know each other?"

Hermione nodded. "She's in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes with me. You?"

"We've spoken a little over the past week," Harry replied. "Luna, what were you two talking about?"

"Only what her _Ka _is," his consort cheerfully replied.

The other girls looked at her oddly. "Well," Daphne said, "Luna's explained a bit of what's going on. I don't know how much I believe, but I want to know more." Turning to Harry and Hermione, she added. "Shall we meet this afternoon, 'my soulmates?'" The last bit was said oddly, not quite sarcasm, but not with a sense of true familiarity, either.

Harry gulped, looking to Hermione and Luna for support. Luckily for him, Hermione was as decisive as ever. "Of course, Daphne, there is a lot we need to discuss."

"Excellent," the blond Slytherin replied. "I will see you then. Now, I should get to breakfast before someone notices me speaking with you three." She cringed. "No hard feelings, please, but my Housemates would not approve of my speaking to you."

"Of course," Luna agreed. "There's no reason for us to reveal our joining so soon, right Hermione?"

"Agreed," the bushy-haired witch said.

"Then, I'm off," Daphne said. "Goodbye my dears, until later." With that, she Daphne walked into the Great Hall with her usual Ice Queen demeanor. The remaining trio was silent for a moment, until . . .

"Glad to know my spouses will value my opinion," Harry said, glumly.

"Sorry, Harry," Hermione winced.

"I am, too, but you should be ready, Harry. Men claim to be in charge, but women have always been the real decision-makes," Luna declared, walking over to wrap her arms around his waist and kiss him lightly. "My Mama taught me that."

Harry sighed. "I guess I'll try to learn, then." Wrapping an arm around her and—after a moment's hesitation—Hermione, he smiled and noted, "I guess there are worse fates than being bossed around by eight lovely ladies, right?"

Hermione smiled a little and allowed herself to lean into his embrace. Luna beamed and declared, "I think you're learning very quickly, Harry. Don't you agree, Hermione?" Smiling, they all walked into the Great Hall together.

What neither the trio nor Daphne knew was that there had been two others observing their conversation. They had hidden behind one of the corners and observed the way the four interacted.

"I wish we could hear what they were saying," Parvati grumbled.

"It was bad enough we were spying on them," Padma said, not all together happy to bewatching Harry enter the Great Hall with an attractive young witch on either arm.

"'Bad enough,' seems more appropriate for what I just saw," Parvati groused in response. "Honestly, it looks like he already has three girls going after him."

"If there is anything to these dreams, they will not be the only ones," her sister replied. "Besides, given the way their Houses are at the moment . . ."

"Yeah, yeah," the Indian Gryffindor replied. "If nothing else, we always knew we'd have to share a guy between ourselves anyway, what's a few more? All I can say is, he better improve his romantic skills if he expects any more than a dance from me in the future."

Padma raised her eyebrow. "With three witches possibly viewing for his attentions, I don't think that will be an issue, Parv . . ."

**The Great Hal; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 13, 1995; 7:30 a.m.**

Albus Wulfrick Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and a lot of other things, sat at the faculty table, looking out over the students assembled before him. A few seats to his left, his new Defense Teacher was speaking very persistently (but very politely, of course) with Professor Vector, the Arithmancy teacher about something.

Likely, he believed, she was attempting to win over support from the Pureblood teacher. _I'm afraid not, Dolores, _the old wizard thought. Professor Vector might have been a Pureblood, but she was staunchly pro-Muggleborns and even pro-Muggle. Dolores would receive no support from her.

Confident in his professor's ability to handle herself, Dumbledore returned his attention to the assembled student body. _If only this could go on forever, _he thought. So long as they were in these walls, the children were shielded from the danger and the corruption of the outside world . . . mostly. Casting his eyes on the Slytherin table, Dumbledore wondered how many would choose to follow in their fathers' or mothers' or friends' footsteps as servants of Voldemort.

_Too many, _he answered himself, and turned away, fighting the urge to sigh. That was when he saw Harry walk into the Great Hall—with both Hermione Granger and Luna Lovegood on his arms! _Oh, dear, _the old man thought, _what do we have here? _

It could be something that could be problematic to his plans . . . or helpful . . .

* * *

**Author's Notes: Wow, another chapter complete! I'm a little worried that I'm rushing the romantic bits, but I feel I need to get everyone involved somehow or else the relationships will turn out token or I'll go out of my way to shoehorn them all in at the end, and everyone will be disappointed. This is the problem with having to develop not one but eight, possibly more, relationships at once. (Come on! I know at least a few of you got your juices going with the little exchange between Daphne and Luna).**

**I feel the need to re-explain myself here: Dumbledore, in my stories, is not some Lex Luthor with hair or an old, magicky, Norman Osborne. He's a tragic figure: a man who walks a road to Hell paved with the best of intensions (why do I feel like I'm quoting someone?). To me, that's more interesting, and makes more sense (not that I don't like _The Harem War_ and others like it; it's just that the idea is a little hard to swallow at times)**

**Also (I didn't feel the need for a Footnote to say this, but I still think I need to), the ideas that Daphne and Luna each have a thing for Hermione and possibly Harry and Hermione are not my own creations. I've seen the idea used before, and really liked it, so I decided to spin it my way. Additionally, it gives these two some common ground.**

**FOOTNOTES:**

**(1) I don't remember whether or not Rowling ever explained how the doors operated on the _inside _of the Commonrooms, so I went with this. It makes sense; no one could sneak out after curfew if the doors refused to open.**

**(2) Another gratuitous _Artemis Fowl _joke. I don't remember how often it came up in the series (I only really remember a scene in my favorite book in the story, _The Artic Incident), _but I liked it, so there you go.**

**(3) No, you perverts, I am _not _going to describe Daphne's "morning fun" in detail for you. It's unnecessary and would have only held the story up. Seriously, writing about sex is fun, but really. . . er, difficult (HAH! Made it!) BUT! I am posting an alternate version of this chapter on Ficwad detailing Daphne's fantasy. I justify this one because a) it's really short, and b) it reveals a little more of Daphne's character.**

**(4) This was not supposed to be a pun! No, really, I wrote that line with a clear, unperverted conscious (I think). Sometimes, small details, both good and bad slip through the cracks.**

**(5) This is from the original _Highlander _from the 1980's, I believe it was (don't really care, the only movie I 've actually seen was the bizarre but fun _Highlander II, The Quickening. _Mostly, I'm a fan of the T.V. series-Go Duncan!) Get used to the popculture quotes, I'm going to keep using them. **

**Also, credit where credit's due, the idea that Luna is a fan of Muggle literature and movies kind of comes form zArkham's R_ejected Path, _where Luna is a fan of the Cthulhu Mythos, and Narcissa Malfoy likes Muggle films.**

**(6) This quote comes from Alfred Lloyd Tennyson, British poet extraordinaire. (I warned you there would be a lot of quoting!) As insular as Wizarding Britain is, they can't totally escape the world around them, otherwise they'****d still be speaking Old English. **

**(7) I'm going to try to explain this more later, but this is my contribution to the _"Harry Potter _Fan Lore." The way I look at it, every family has to start somewhere, and I never really liked the idea that "Hermione turns out to be descended from an old Wizarding family that got 'squibbed-out.'" To me, a major part of Hermione's character is her totally mundane background; she gets a lot of flak just for being Muggleborn, and, lots more for being so much better than all the Purebloods. I can kind of understand how the idea that "all Muggleborns are really descended from 'lost' Magickal families" can work (reveals how pointless the whole Pureblood vs. Everyone else debate is), but it makes the Wizards seem human, and, still sucks out a BIG part of the characters for me. Ah, well: to each his/her own . . .**

**(8) This is another element of _The Wheel of Time. _I won't explain it here, because the characters will down the line, but I will say this, IT'S A BIG DEAL!**

**PREVIEW OF NEXT TIME (because I'm really excited about it):**

**We learn more about Purebloods and Slytherin House, particularly the Greengrass family and where their wealth and influence comes from. (Bear with me, I took an idea I've hear a dozen or so times and put a twist on it, and now I finally get a chance to reveal it. This is a big deal for me!).**

**Also, the group finally gets to a subject I'm sure some WoT fans have been wondering about for the last few chapters if not since the start of the story . . .**

**No, I'm not going to tell you what it is! Come back in a couple of weeks!**


	10. Chapter 10: Intimacy & Acceptance

**Author's Notes: Hey, all! Sorry it took so long, but hopefully eleven pages will make up for it! This is, I thinkt the longest I've written for this story thus far.**

**Anyway, as has been requested, I'm going to spot answering every single reply in these notes (I'm sure I'm not the only one who was tired of all those "Thank you"s). That said, I'm still going to address anything I think is important.**

**First off, Thank you to everyone who liked the last chapter.**

**Secondly, I'm not certain this is really important or not, but I feel like saying it here to end all debate on this topic. If you've seen my Author's Page and looked at the list of Worlds on the Tree, you know that _Young Justice _is one of the Worlds. THE MARVEL HEROES ARE NOT A PART OF THIS WORLD; THEY ARE PURELY FICTIOUS AS FAR AS THIS MULTIVERSE IS CONCERNED. This was actually something that concerned me personally: how much of fiction is really fiction and how much is real in some universe, and is "fictious" in one World real in another? So, the DC heroes (or, at least some of them) have their own World. Marvel Comics does not; some things really _are _fiction in this series. This topic is not open to debate. It's not that I don't like the idea of a Marvel/DC crossover world (what comic geek doesn't?), I just think the DC universe alone is big enough, and adding Marvel's mythos . . . Well, between all the monsters, mutants, aliens, heroes, gangsters, and whatnot, I'd be left wondering how many ordinary, human civilians are on such a planet (I'm guessing a minority compared to everything else).**

**That said, I've been debating whether or not to stick the Runaways in the _Young Justice _world just because I think they're really interesting.**

**OK, I think that's everything. Next Chapter!**

* * *

**A Secret Spot on The Black Lake; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 13, 1995; 4:25 p.m.**

"Luna . . . I'm not getting this," Harry groaned, dropping his hands to his sides.

Beside him, Hermione, shook her head in frustration. "This isn't working," she said. "Luna, don't you know anything more concrete about how this process is supposed to work?"

"No, Hermione," the blond witch answered. "Remember, I have never been a Channeler. I only know the basic theory."

"What's a Channeler?"

Harry's and Hermione's heads whipped behind them, but Luna just smiled and replied, "Good afternoon, Daphne. Would you like to join us?"

"I'd be happy to," the Slytherin blond replied as she walked up to the trio. Actually, she was rather annoyed; it was unfair that Luna could sneak up on just about everyone, but was apparently immune to such surprises herself. "What are you working on?"

"Channeling," Hermione replied. "It's a type of magic, or magic-like ability," she said, throwing a glance at Luna whose smile only widened, "practiced extensively in the Third Age."

"How is Channeling any different than normal magic?" Daphne asked, frowning slightly.

"No words or wands, for starters," Harry said, walking over to the girl. He blushed a little as he got closer to Daphne. Here was another one of his soulmates, but how was he supposed to deal with that? He was already married to Luna and had slept with her (and, to be perfectly honest, hoped to do so again in the near future) but had only just started dating Hermione. What would Daphne want to do?

". . . I'm assuming then, there's more to Channeling than just being able to cast wandless spells," Daphne observed. Even if there wasn't, Channeling was already sounding like a highly useful skill; casting wandlessly and casting silently were difficult enough individually. To be able to combine both feats was . . .

Luna nodded. "Quite right, Daphne, and you've just hit the big one. Channeling is _not _casting a spell. A spell always uses words even if they are only spoken in your mind. Channelers _weave _their power using pure willpower to manipulate the elements."

"There are no words at all?" Daphne asked.

"So far as we can tell, no," Hermione answered, her own face becoming uncomfortably hot. Daphne's eyebrow was arched, giving her violet eyes a feeling of intensity. They reminded Hermione of the flames she had conjured to attack Professor Snape and the Devil's Snare back in First Year.

"That should be impossible. Sorcerers have been trying to accomplish something like that since the dawn of time, but no one's ever succeeded," Daphne breathed.

"Sorcerers?" Harry asked.**(1) **

"Wizards who study magic itself," Hermione explained.

"Oh," he replied. "But, when I was younger, I did plenty of things by accident."

"Yes, 'by accident,'" Daphne replied. "Everyone goes through things like that." She smiled in a way that reminded Harry of a cat whose owner had left it alone with a canary and a glass of cream. "I accidently destroyed my bed when I was six because I didn't want to take a nap."

"Wow," Harry said, "the best I ever did was blow up my aunt." When the other's looked at him in horror, he quickly amended, "Like a balloon! She swelled up like a balloon and flew out the door, and floated over the city for a while."

Luna giggled, smiling. Daphne snorted, immediately covering her face. Luna's giggling increased, but Harry and Hermione just smiled at her; _that _image, immediately after such a vicious one, was pretty intense. Smiling back, she asked, "What was she _doing?" _

Harry's smile fell. "She was insulting my mum," he said.

"Oh," Daphne replied, heat crawling up her neck. "I'm sorry . . . I take it she's . . . prejudiced."

"Yes, but not in the way you're thinking," Hermione replied, as Harry looked lost. Turning to him, she said, "Harry . . . have you told Luna about the Dursleys yet?"

"No," Harry said with a shake of his head. "I don't think it's that important."

"It is, Harry," Hermione said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You have to talk about this."

"No, it . . ."

"Harry," Luna said, walking over and taking his hand in her's. "Let us in, please."

Harry didn't say anything, but his face said he was wavering. Daphne realized it was her turn now. "Harry," she said, approaching him slowly, "I realize I haven't known you—really known you—very long. The truth is, I still don't know you, but I have to. To make this work—to make _any _relationship work, my Mum says—we have to know each other. So . . . will you please let me know you? I . . ." Daphne's eyes tried to look away, but she forced them back onto Harry. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "I want to know you."

Harry looked at the three girls facing him and sighed. "All right," he said, sitting down. The others followed his lead. "Daphne, do you know anything about my life outside of Hogwarts?"

Daphne raised her eyebrow; she opened her mouth to reply, then closed it. She thought for a moment before replying. "I don't _know, _I suppose, I have a few theories, based on what I know of Pureblood customs—"

"I'm not a Pureblood!" Harry interjected. "Sorry, that came out wrong. There isn't anything wrong with being a Pureblood. It's just that I'm not one."

"No, but your father was," Daphne corrected. "It stands to reason that his relatives took you in and raised you."

"Raised me as a pampered little prince," Harry spat, "That's what Snape says, isn't it?"

Daphne cringed a little at Harry's accusation. "It is, although anyone can see that you're too kind to be the spoiled brat he says you are. Actually . . . I _was _thinking the other night that you didn't even act like someone who'd been raised by a noble family."

"I'm noble?" Harry asked, remembering the family tree in Grimauld Place reading _The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black._

"Functionally," Hermione said. "There aren't really any truly noble families in Magical Britain anymore, just a collection of really old, usually very wealthy families.**(2)**

"And Houae Potter is one of the oldest and the wealthiest," Daphne remarked. She frowned, "But why don't you know all this? Didn't your relatives tell you?"

"I was left with my mum's family," Harry sighed. "They're Muggles."

"What?" Daphne cried. "Why? _Any _Magical family would have been happy to take you in! You're—"

"The-Boy-Who-Lived," Harry sighed, looking out on the Lake.

"Harry . . . never liked that title," Hermione explained.

"Of course not," Luna said. "Who wants to be famous for something he can't remember doing?"

"I didn't do anything," Harry interjected. The others turned to him. "My Mum's the one who stopped Voldemort." He either ignored or didn't hear Daphne suck in her breath; even confirmed Death Eaters didn't dare say the Dark Lord's name, but Harry said it like a he was talking about the weather. "Dumbledore said that she died for me; Voldemort gave her the chance to escape, but she didn't take it. He—Dumbledore—said love like that leaves a mark, protected me, somehow . . ."

"I'm sorry," Daphne whispered. She gently took his hand in hers. She tried to imagine life without her mother, knowing her parent had loved her enough to die for her, and instantly threw the thought away in pain. How could anyone take that?

Luna hugged Harry tightly from behind. In her mind, the image of her own mother dying in that lab explosion played out again and again. She tried to force it down as a few tears leaked out. She didn't know what the Pattern held for her, but she made a silent vow then and there that her's and Harry's children would never grow up without their mother—or father. _No, _she thought, None _of them will. _No matter who the mother was, none of Harry's progeny would grow up without knowing their mothers and father; she swore it.

Hermione, for her part, wondered what to do for a moment. Most girlfriends, she believed, would probably hug their love interests right now, but was that too much too soon? _Forget it! _she scolded herself and decided to do what she would have done had she not been Harry's girlfriend; she wrapped her arm around his head and leaned it into her shoulder.

For a moment, they were silent together. Harry's mind was racing as fast as his Firebolt, trying to understand how this was happening. How did _he _become the love of three (and more) girls' lives? Why were they agreeing to share him, to accept one another? It didn't make any sense, but when did anything in his life make sense?

A few moments past in silence before Daphne spoke again. "Merlin, Potter," she sighed. "How do you get away with making me feel like such a hypocrite?"

"What do you mean, Daphne?" Harry asked, lifting his head and turning towards her. Hermione and Luna did likewise. "You're not a hypocrite."

"Yes, I am," the Slytherin witch said. "I judged you based on a little bit of knowledge and a lot of assumptions. I acted just like those _boys,"_ she spat the word, "who think I'm an easy lay because they think my mother is, and those girls who assume that she's some kind of _whore _and that Story and I will be when we grow up . . ."

"_What the fuck?" _Harry cried, oblivious to the three female heads whiplashing towards him because of his profanity. None of them had "innocent ears," so to speak—indeed, there were foul-mouthed students in every House—but hearing Harry's usually clean mouth utter such a powerful explicative was . . . shocking.**(3)**

Harry continued. "How could they—? Those bloody—Why would they . . . ?"

The others let Harry breath heavily for a few moments before they dared speak. "People are quick to make judgments based on very little information," Luna whispered, undoing her hug to rub Harry's back gently. "We've all been there: Hermione's just some Muggle-born; I'm the insane eagle; and you can't escape the shadow of The-Boy-Who-Lived. Daphne is the same; as she said, people knew a little bit about her family and spun all kinds of conjectures and theories about her because of it."

"Why _do _they think those things?" Hermione asked. When everyone turned to her, she blushed. "I mean, what is it about your family—your mother—that makes people think such horrible things about you?"

"You don't know?" Luna asked, tilting her head.

"Harry doesn't either," Daphne said, "Now, I think I understand why—being raised by Muggles and all, and Hermione . . . well, she's never been overly fond of this subject."

"What subject?" Harry and Hermione both asked. Again, no rehearsals.

Daphne fidgeted a little, hesitating before she spoke. "Harry, I told you that my family is quite well off, correct."

"Right," the wizard nodded.

"And Hermione," Daphne continued. "You asked me once what my family did, and I . . . was rather evasive, I believe."

"Yes, you were," Hermione agreed, remembering the day in Ancient Runes. Daphne had inquired about Hermione's parents, expressing curiosity when Hermione explained that they were functionally healers for teeth—_"They _drill _into the cavities? How in Merlin's name does that help?"—_but when Hermione had asked about Daphne's parents she'd gotten a complicated, yet vague answer that she surmised as "either sales or shipping." "Why didn't you want to tell me? Are you ashamed of them?"

"No!" Daphne cried so quickly, it seemed reflexive. "I don't care what anyone else says; my parents are good people, and I'm proud of them! My mother has done nothing wrong, and one day I hope to follow in her footsteps," she said, clenching her fists. "It's just . . ." Her hands came undone and her voice dropped. "You don't agree with me, Hermione, and . . . I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, drive you away . . ." Her voice did _not _just break. Morgana take it, she couldn't lose it in front of _both _her crushes and the girl she could already see would be Harry's Alpha Mate.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but Harry beat her to it. "Daph," he said, instinctively using the affectionate. Slowly, giving her a chance to see what he was dong and stop him, if she so wished, he wrapped his arms around her. She didn't stop him; in fact, she looked into his eyes the moment he said her name. "You can tell me. I won't judge; I promise. I . . . I don't know much about this 'soulmates" thing, or the Pattern, or _Wyrd, _or much of anything, really." Hermione opened her mouth to scold Harry for taking such a dim view of himself, but Luna leaned over and _shush_-ed in her ear.

"I _do _know that I'm crushing on you, Daphne." This caused the witch in his arms to take in a small gasp, and made Hermione's heart do funny things—not necessarily unpleasant things, mind you, which was the strangest part. "I've always kind of liked you; I thought you were pretty the minute I saw you, and I respected the way you held yourself, so full of confidence and poise. Now, in the past few days, I've seen how much you care about your sister; I've gotten an idea of the high standards you set for yourself; and I've seen how passionately you support your beliefs and your family."

"I don't know all that much about _you,_ Daphne, but, I'd like to. I'd like to know you, as well as I know Hermione."

"Daphne," Hermione said, taking one of the other witch's hands in hers, as Daphne had done with Harry when he'd been hurting. "It's like you said to Harry. We have to be honest with one another—we have to _share _with one another—or there's no hope for this . . . relationship." The relationship in question was still a little hard for her mind to rationalize, despite Luna's help, but that wasn't important right now.

Luna smiled as Daphne stared back at her heart's desires in a stupor. Her husband was _so _very dangerous when it came to ladies, despite being totally oblivious to it (actually, when she thought about it, his sincerity was a big part of his appeal), and Hermione was no better. "It's _your _turn to let us in, Daphne," she said.**(4)**

Daphne nodded. "My family own Greengrass Publishing," she said.

"A publishing company?" Harry asked.

"For magazines," Daphne affirmed. "Our most popular being _Playwizard."_

"Oh," Harry said, his brain melting and dribbling out his ears. "Your family prints . . ."

"It's different than the Muggle version," Luna interrupted. "More along the lines of what Muggles would call 'glamour' photography, nude artwork, than out and out pornography." The others stared at her, and she shrugged. "My mother liked them, and Daddy and I kept most of her things when she died."

"So, one day you found them . . ." Hermione asked, trying not to make it sound like an accusation. She failed miserably.

"Oh, no," the blond Ravenclaw replied. "She showed them to me when she was alive, to help explain sex and puberty."

"But, you said your mother died years ago," Harry interrupted.

"When I was nine, yes," she replied.

"She was showing . . . _that _to a nine-year-old?" Hermione screamed.

"Eight, actually. My mother believed making love should be reserved for love, but she thought it was incredibly stupid to try to hide sexuality from children. We'd just find out on our own and then get into all sorts of trouble." Luna replied. "I think it was a good idea; you hear too many stories about Muggle teens becoming pregnant because they weren't properly warned. Besides . . ." Luna's voice trailed off. "Spell research is a risky job. She always knew that. So, she wanted to teach me these things as soon as possible in case . . ."

"In case she couldn't later," Daphne replied, nodding. After a moment, during which Harry wrapped his free arm around Luna and pulled her up against his side, she added, "My mother used them to teach me and Story, too. She actually made me look forward to it; I always hoped I would become as beautiful as she is."

"So, she . . ." Hermione implied, or perhaps accused.

"How do you think my parents met?" Daphne asked, arching her eyebrows. "Yes, my mother models for the magazine." _Do you have a problem with that? _was implied in her tone.

"And, your father's OK with that?" Harry asked, timidly.

Daphne softened a little. "Of course, like Luna said, it's artwork. There _is _a long tradition of nudity in artwork you know."

"Why?" Hermione asked, frowning. When the others looked at her, she clarified, "Why does she do it? Does . . . does she _have _to?"

Daphne felt her blood superheat for one moment, then sighed, letting it fall back to normal. She remembered on time in Arithmacy when she had first mentioned the magazine to her friend. Hermione had started railing against the objectification of women and how chauvinistic any man who read it was, all using the same passion she used to decry the "enslavement" of House Elves. Daphne had wilted then and chosen not to mention her family's connection to the magazine.

Now, however, was the time to stand up for herself and her family. "No, Hermione, she _chooses _to. Mum enjoys being a model, not just for our magazine but for robes and shoes and other things, too. She told me a model is always objectified, made to fit the photographer's ideas, and then interpreted by the view in his or her own way. Whether or not she's dressed doesn't make any difference in that regard. The only difference for her, she told me, is that the nude photos are all about her rather than about some product that she's supposed to advertise. It makes her feel beautiful and energetic, so she still does it, even though there's no longer any money in it since she married Dad."

"And . . . he's all right with other people seeing his wife naked?" Hermione asked?

Daphne shrugged. "I asked him about that once, he said that it didn't matter how many people _looked _at her, or even how many _desired _her. He was the one who _had _her, and that was what really mattered."

"So, what does this have to do with the way other people treat you?" Harry asked, suddenly remembering how this bizarre conversation had started.

Daphne sighed. "Like I said, people know a little bit about my family; they know we publish _Playwizard, _and that my mother models for it. There are some—mostly Muggle-borns, but there are some from every House and background—who think this means she's a slut who will sleep with anyone, and, by extension, I am, too."

Harry's muscles clenched, but his hands stayed soft as his eyes hardened. Luna saw this but did not comment, though it pleased her to see her husband reacting the same way to the implication that _any _of his mates were being mistreated. Likewise, Hermione's eyes were wide, and she had pulled the other witch's hand a little closer to her chest.

"Did they hurt you?" he asked.

Daphne shook her head. "No, there were plenty of . . . total creeps," Harry and Hermione were taken aback by the colloquial coming out of Daphne's mouth, "but they weren't evil, or stupid enough to do anything."

Hermione and Harry looked oddly at her, so she explained. "House Greengrass is very wealthy and well connected; if anyone tried anything, my family could not only charge the person responsible, we could sue them for personal damages and would have a fair shot at winning. Even if we lost the suite, it would be a very expensive, not to mention embarrassing, ordeal. No one wants to make trouble like that for themselves."**(5)**

"'Personal damages?'" Harry asked.

"Purebloods are very strict about maintaining their daughters' so-called 'purity,'" Hermione interrupted.

"I assume you have a problem with that, Hermione?" Daphne asked, somewhat surprised.

"It's rather misogynistic that a woman's virginity is considered the most virtuous thing about her. It's not that I have anything against waiting," that would have been hypocritical, "but, I would like to believe I have other qualities to offer my partner than a little piece of flesh."

"You have plenty to offer," Harry whispered, causing her to blush.

"Definitely," Daphne agreed. When the others looked at her, she flushed. "What? You're unbelievably smart, amazingly pretty, incredibly loyal; you have astounding natural talent . . ." Her blush deepened and she decided to stop before she looked like a fangirl.

"Thank you, Daphne," Hermione breathed. She knew her friends respected her, but only teachers had ever actually praised her so much.

"It's all true, you know," Luna whispered. "All that and more."

"Really?" Hermione asked turning to the younger blond.

"Really," Harry said, answering for his consort. "You're brilliant Hermione. Absolutely brilliant."

* * *

**Later**

"_You've GOT to be kidding!" _Hermione shrieked.

Daphne was red faced, but grinning. "I wish. It was real, _all _of it! I don't know how many pictures they took. I can't stand to think about it!"

After the catharsis of sharing their private torments with one another (at least, two of them had), the four soulmates had spent the past couple hours exchanging stories about their home lives. Luna had recounted her first "adventure," how, as a four-year-old, she and her parents had gone hunting in the garden for Nargles; Hermione had told the story of how a boy had nearly bitten her father's finger off during a cleaning ("He still has the scar on his index finger," she said, as Daphne stared in disbelief); and Daphne, after a good deal of blushing, had decided to tell her soulmates about the time she had gone snooping in her parents room one night they had left her home alone, and had discovered a photo album in her mother's night-side table. The contents of the photos had scarred her for life.

"Were they at least . . . under the covers?" Harry asked, cringing.

Daphne shook her head. "No, they were completely exposed to the camera, in each picture."

"Why would they make something like that?" Hermione asked.

"It sounds like fun," Luna said. "Maybe we should make a photo album like that someday, Harry." Harry's face did a wonderful impression of Rudolph the reindeer's nose. "Oh, come on, Harry, I'm sure it will make explaining all these things to the children so much easier."

"It did at that," Daphne muttered. The others turned back to her. The Slytherin witch offered a wry grin. "It was another part of Story's and my own 'home education:' an in-depth explanation of . . . proper amorous technique, to make certain we were prepared for our own marriages."

"You're expected to be virginal but you're still supposed to know what to do?" Harry asked.

"We are," Daphne nodded. "Maintaining our virtue doesn't require us to maintain our ignorance; most Purebloods actually teach their children how to perform in the bedroom." At Harry and Hermione's blushing looks, she shrugged. "My father said that it was like a mutual wedding present from both families to the new couple."

"I agree," Luna said. Turning to her husband, she smiled widely. "I'm not an expert by any stretch of the imagination, but I'll bet you were very pleased with how much I knew our first time together, Dear Husband."

Harry's blush sent her into another fit of beautiful laughter. "Oh, Harry dear, I think the Nargles got to you."

While Luna teased her husband mercilessly, Hermione was deep in thought. She looked blankly at the ground for a few moments, lightly chewing her lip before admitting, "I can't do it."

"What?" Harry turned to her. A vice gripped his heart and squeezed tightly. _Does she want to leave? Is this all . . . too much?_ Some part of his brain was amazed that he was this devastated over the idea that one girl might be leaving him when he was told he would have _seven _more_. _The majority told that part to go jump in the Lake.

"I . . . I think I understand, sort of, how you and your mother see this, Daphne," the brunette said, turning to her Slytherin friend, "and I respect your decision. But . . . I'm sorry, I just _can't _do that, and I don't think I could really allow my children to do so either. I suppose I couldn't stop them, but it would cause an _awful _row and—"

Harry withdrew his hand from Daphne and wrapped it around his oldest friend. "Hermione, _no one_ is going to make you do anything your uncomfortable with," the young wizard said. "I've been forced to do so much that I hated . . . How could I ever put someone else—someone I _love _through that?" He pulled her into his side. "I promise I will _never _do that to you, _any _of you," he said, looking around at his consort and . . . other girlfriend? What was Daphne at this point?

The Slytherin witch nodded and held her friend's hand close to her. "Hermione . . . I understand how you feel. Story's still young, but she's already decided that she doesn't want to model for us. Mum, Dad, and I all respect her for that, and I respect you for it, too. What's right for me, isn't necessarily right for you, and, so long as you allow me to make my own choice about this, I'll support you in your's. I promise."

Hermione was on the brink of tears now, her logical mind trying, and failing to wrap itself around what was going on. Her upbringing had informed her that this was an impossible situation, so how was it working out so well? Then, Luna, who had silently let go of Harry and walked around behind them, embraced her from behind. "Never doubt that we love you, Hermione," the blond Fourth-Year whispered. "And never doubt what that means."

Hermione finally allowed herself to cry, and she smiled as she did so. And then she realized something, something she had always none, but hadn't thought about in years. Her upbringing had informed her that being a witch and learning magic was impossible. Yet, here she was.

* * *

"We should probably head in," Daphne noted, as the Sun sank beyond the mountains. "It will be time for Dinner soon."

"_Merlin," _Hermione breathed. "We haven't done _any _homework, and there's a quiz in Defense tomorrow, and we _still _don't know how to Channel—"

"Breathe, Hermione," all three said at one. The four were all silent a moment before simultaneously bursting into laughter. The either doubled over or fell back, clutching their sides, and gasping for breath.

When she finally recovered, Hermione wiped the tears out of her eyes, and said, "All right, we'll do our work tonight." She paused for a moment, then turned to Daphne and Luna. "Um . . . will you two . . .?"

"I can manage on my own, Hermione, but thank you," Daphne responded, smoothing her dress.

"Likewise," Luna said, still lying on the grass.

"I guess we should get going," Harry said, moving to get up, but couldn't because Luna had pushed herself up again and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"Oh no, Dear Husband," she purred into his ear. "You can't tell me that after _all that _you aren't randy as can be."

"Luna!" Hermione gasped, her face bright red.

"Oh, leave them be, Hermione," Daphne said, standing up now. "Let's continue this discussion another time. For now," she said, eying the blushing wizard and his smirking consort, "we should leave these two to 'enjoy themselves,' as my parents would say."

"All right," the brunette witch agreed, sighing. Leaning over, she kissed the stammering Harry on the cheek. "See you later, Harry, Luna."

"We won't take too long this time," Luna promised, kissing Harry's neck and cheek, making it even harder for the poor boy to think straight.

Daphne smirked and took Hermione's hand in her own to lead the bushy-haired witch back to the Castle. Just before leaving Harry's line of sight, however, she turned around and blew him a kiss.

* * *

"So, you're all right with this?" Hermione asked, as they walked back towards the Castle. A part of her was wondering why Daphne had taken her hand. Another part wondered why she liked it so much.

"Perfectly all right," the Slytherin replied. "I've always known I would likely have to share my husband with another; I'm the heir of House Greengrass after all, and if I don't become a consort and keep my own name, Story's chances of marrying whomever she desires will fall." Looking her friend in the eye, she continued. "You know Hermione, it's not that different for you. Should you chose, you could become Harry's consort, as the lady of House Granger."

Hermione blushed. "Thank you, Daphne, but I already know that. Perhaps you will think this strange of someone so vocally feminist, but I've always . . . The idea of changing my name to my husband's has always been rather romantic for me."

Daphne nodded. "I think I see it, but you're wrong; there's nothing strange about it. You're you, Hermione. My father told me once," she said, remembering the time she came home crying because the pureblood girls she had gone to elementary school with had called her a blood-traitor for not joining them in their game of insulting Muggles, "that people are all individuals. Just because you agree with so-called 'feminists' about one thing, doesn't mean you have to agree with them about everything." Squeezing Hermione's hand a little, she smiled. "Harry's right; you're brilliant as you are, and none of us would trade you for anything."

Hermione smiled with pink cheeks. "Thank you, Daphne."

Daphne just shrugged. "That's one of the two things friends are for, supporting one another in moments of difficulty."

"What's the other thing?"

"Based on my own observations," Daphne replied, her mouth curling with mischief. "Another is sharing secrets with one another. "So, have you and Harry . . ."

"_No!" _Hermione screamed. Daphne cringed, and Hermione, red-faced again, smiled a little. "We're . . . taking things slowly, and I'm not going to marry him at the drop of a hat, like Luna did."

Daphne nodded. "Smart. I think I'll wait a bit too." Though perhaps not as long; she was already planning to write to her parents tonight.

Then, she smiled what Hermione called "her Slytherin smile." It was a smile that told you someone else was about to be very sad. "Hermione, I would like to invoke both 'things' now and ask you to tell me why Harry's hand _looks as though someone carved into __with a knife?"_

* * *

**Author's Notes: Yeah, I finally addressed Channeling! Hopefully more on that later. By the way, I am NOT publishing a sex scene between Harry and Luna on Ficwad! There is no reason for me to. I WILL write more scenes between the two of them later. (I've already got one planned).**

**Ok . . . Daphne's family and _Playwizard: _I've read a bunch of stories, not many of late though, where Daphne models for this magazine. I kind of liked the idea (especially as I interpretted the magazine's content), but I couldn't ignore the fact that Daphne was UNDERAGE. This is my solution. This chapter dragged on because I wanted Daphne to support her and her mother's decision and have Hermione offer the alternate view. I don't want to preach about this subject, so I just decided to present both sides of the issue. This is one of the advantages to giving Harry multiple partners.**

**Granted, I know some of you will still call me a pig over this. Oh well, if you haven't learned anyting else by now, I'm pretty good with different beliefs and opinions from my own.**

**Footnotes:**

**(1) This is also true in my other ongoing Harry Potter story, _Son of a Snake._**

**(2) This is pure conjecture on my part, but Lupin said in _Half-Blood Prince_ that "there are no princes in the Wizarding World," so I decided to reinterpret the concept of Wizarding nobility. The tapestry in Grimauld Place, as far as this story is concerned, just reflects traditional Purebood arrogance.**

**(3) This is a reference to Solomon Kane, another of Robert E. Howard's hereos, specifically the story a.k.a. _Solomon Kane. _Also, (hint time!) an important treasure from the Solomon Kane stories will appear later in this story, and will bridge the Howardverse with _The Wheel of Time. _Can you guess what. What's more(Another fhint!) it be something that was thought to be impossible in _WoT._**

**(4) Another sort-of _WoT _quote, when Rand admits his feelings to Min in _Crown of Swords, _she says he is "very dangerous."**

**(5) This is an inexplicably popular element I've seen in a lot of stories since _The Harem War. _Honestly, I don't particularly like it, partially because it's so horrible, but also because it doesn't make a lot of sense. Part of the point of putting Daphne in the harem is to show that not all Slytherins are bad. Having all the males be serial-rapists seems like the opposite.**

**Also, when you think about it, there's no real reason for it. The Death Eaters are kind of like Nazis, and (whatever else they did) I don't remember the Nazis (in general) accused of rape. Remember, these guys see themselves as heroes of "proper society." Assaulting that society doesn't make a lot of sense. Granted, there must be a handful of turly types who _would _do this, but they do not represent the whole population. The Death Eaters are _evil , _but only a few a capable of fully embracing Voldemort's ideas of amorality in the name of power. As I said earlier, they see themselves as the good guys.**

**Thirdly, I've never really gotten the idea that the Wizarding World is ultra-sexist. They have women professors, curse-breakers, police officers, business owners, reporters, even politicians. Heck, in _Fantastick Beasts and Where to Find Them, _there a female head-of-state in the 18th or 19th century! As far as I'm concerned, women's rights is one thing the magical World is equal if not ahead of the mudane one.**


End file.
